


Meet You on the Edge of the Galaxy

by Jerevinan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Found Family, Humor, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Reincarnation, Romance, Slow Burn, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan
Summary: No matter how many lives they have lived, these two souls have always found one another. Something has always connected them, and they have never been apart for long.But after the lifetime of the Chosen King, everything about their reincarnation cycle changes. Friends and family are reborn with their memories. Finding each other, however, gets a bit complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did a reincarnation AU for ignoctweek last year, called songs that died centuries ago. This one has a similar concept to that fic, but it is based off the alternative ending.
> 
> The restaurant that appears a bit in this story was inspired by [this bar](http://archilovers.tumblr.com/post/169225203896/kryptbar-b%C3%BCro-klk-see-the-full-project-at).

The bells toll, an ominous noise that sweeps through the city of Insomnia’s quiet morning roads and sends birds flying from the tower. Their wingspans cast shadows across the barren streets.

The citizens pause in their daily rituals to hear the ring of the bell seventy-two times. There is only one reason for that sound, and most of them have never heard the bells before. The oldest ones think it will be the first and last in their lifetimes. But moments following the last ring, it starts up again. 

It goes for seventy-four more times. Two deaths in the royal family. The arms of the bell ringer will be sore if they haven’t asked someone else to take over.

There were no bells the day King Regis died. Cor Leonis last heard them the day Queen Aulea passed away, but no one was there to travel up the bell tower and pull the ropes while Regis lay slain on the Citadel floors. 

Even in his old age, his hearing is sharp enough, and Cor hears each mournful dong.

Three kings have lived and passed on in his lifetime, and Cor continues to live up to his title of Cor the Immortal. 

~*~

The restaurant is made from an old building in Insomnia, reconstructed around pockmarked stones so that sleek wooden panels and furniture contrast with the enduring older architecture. Plants sit beneath artificial lights along the walls, giving a splash of life and color to the inside. 

There are only a few patrons during the middle of the afternoon. Noctis finds an empty table along one of the old walls and waits for a server.

Prompto swears this is the place. It seems almost too elite for Ignis unless he is a chef rather than a patron, but when Noctis speaks with the waitress, she shakes her head at the description he provides.

“His name is Ignis Scientia,” says Noctis.

The waitress holds her tablet close to her chest. “No, I’m sorry.”

Noctis visibly droops and leafs through the menu half-heartedly. For all the trouble he has caused, he should be a decent customer and offer her a loaded tip. The food seems a bit pricy for what items are on the menu, but he finds something casual to eat.

“Cola and sliders, please. Leave off the vegetables.”

“Fries?”

“Sure.”

Noctis sips his cola while he waits for his order, swishing his straw around inside the glass and listening to the clinking of ice. Some patrons notice him watching them and glare, shifting so their backs are to him. None of them are Ignis, so Noctis doesn’t care what they think of him. Is he being weird? Sure. But they’ll leave this restaurant and forget about the guy whose curious gaze lingered too long on their faces by the time they drift off to sleep that night. 

Noctis will go to bed, too, dreaming vague thoughts about several other lifetimes, all of them capturing the same feeling he searches for in this one. He has spent twenty-two years separate from Ignis—not including the wait to be reborn. Their hearts were made to be together as one. All the other times they have found one another have only proven the strength of their love.

Only Prompto has ever understood what Noctis means, when he says he is looking for the half that makes him whole and already has a name to go with a person he has never met.

Noctis found Prompto before Ignis. Their encounter had been unexpected. Noctis bumped into him during one of his college courses and found tears in his eyes because he remembered something about the other teenager, but he didn’t know what. Past lives are like that—always one memory flickering out of reach until something clicks. Faces are always the hardest. He has Ignis’ memorized, and his parents have raised him, but everyone else’s were hazy.

Noctis knew why he was crying by the time Prompto whispered, “Noct? Is that you?”

They were nineteen at the time. Now they’re both twenty-two. Over three years of searching, looking for any lead on their loved ones. 

The process of reincarnation has changed in this cycle, and Noctis isn’t sure what is behind the change. The anomaly scares him, because now he has no idea what else might deviate. His parents carried over from his previous life, their names and personalities the same. Before, his parents were always different people, and Noctis was born with different names. The only consistency has been the soul of the man he loves. They always found each other somehow, never having to wait beyond the age of thirty-five for a reunion.

This time, Noctis came into this life as Noctis Caelum. Some people think it’s a charming coincidence, and of course Regis and Aulea would choose to name their son Noctis. It isn’t exactly uncommon. There are children with names like Caelum and Noctis all over Insomnia, whether it be their first or last. In fact, there was a rise of it in Noctis’ previous life, when those who survived the world of ruin wanted to honor their savior by naming their children after him. In some cases, orphans without last names chose something relevant to the Dawn, and they passed the names onto their future generations.

Regis and Aulea are aware of the truth. They know who Noctis is, who they once were. They remember their old friends and acquaintances, even if they aren’t surrounded by them. No one has ever found Cor, Nyx, Cid—not even Clarus has turned up. Regis might have had more of an inclination to search for them, but his soulmate stands by his side, and he remembers when Aulea left him too early in life. Regis always seems afraid to ask for more than to be by her side. To him, things are perfect. Noctis was raised in a normal home with a normal family. They don’t have to worry about royal obligations or politics. They don’t have prophecies to fulfill. 

Noctis was five when he started to remember his memories through dreams. Bits and pieces have accumulated over the years, a string of events that led to a story. He used to wake up crying in the middle of the night, and one of his parents would rush into his room and sit beside him in bed while he tried to explain everything that had happened, aching to make sense of it. His parents eventually admitted that they had known all along, when Noctis was old enough to demand answers.

When Noctis found Prompto, he realized he could find everyone else, not just Ignis. But he would like to find Ignis first, even if it is selfish. Since then, Prompto has been helping him, using his expertise with the internet to look for any leads on their possible whereabouts. Even an email address would be good enough for Noctis. Any means of contact would be better than nothing.

Regis tolerates this only when Noctis’ grades don’t slip. Sometimes Aulea and Regis help, in-between their work at the Museum of Lucian History. Noctis is sure they miss their friends as much as he misses everyone, even if Regis and Aulea swear they’re happy. If they can find Gladiolus, they should find Iris and Clarus. Well, Noctis hopes that will be the case. He might have gotten his parents, but Prompto ended up with a different set. They’re nothing like his adopted family, and they’re not like his biological “father” either. Both of them would drop anything to be at Prompto’s side whenever he needs them—a luxury only granted to them because his mother happened to inherit a lot of money from her grandmother. Noctis would be jealous if he didn’t know how negligent Prompto’s last set were. His parents still have to work or they wouldn’t be able to pay the bills.

But maybe Prompto’s case is special, and Gladiolus will be found with the same sister and father he had before.

Finding anyone, at this rate, would be a victory. Noctis doesn’t want to wait until he is thirty-five before he finally reunites with all the people he considers family and friends. But that is especially true when it comes to Ignis. 

Noctis had started to feel hopeless about the whole thing last week. But just as he was ready to give up and let fate decide for him, a lead came. Prompto was dining with his parents when he saw someone who looked like Ignis at this restaurant. Chasing after Ignis had proven to be useless; the restaurant was too packed at the time to keep up with him. Once Prompto stepped out onto the sidewalk, he saw no sign of the bespectacled man with “Iggy’s nose, and those green eyes—I swear it was him, Noct!”

One incident. That’s all they have, and Ignis may never visit this restaurant again. If he does, it could be at the strangest of times. Noctis only came to rule out whether or not Ignis worked there. 

The food is good, too. Noctis devours his sliders and fries, enjoying the quiet atmosphere of the restaurant between its lunch and dinner traffic. Insomnia, old and new, comes together in this place, and he can’t help but think it’s almost symbolic of the situation. New lives, old souls, trying to find one another in this big, amazing world.

A world Ignis and Noctis saved together, and should live in together.


	2. Chapter 2

One valuable lesson Noctis has learned over thousands of years of living and dying: no one ever completely grows up.

Noctis chooses to enjoy his youth. His parents have done the same, casting aside much of the weight from their past lives to adopt a humbler worldview. 

Noctis still loves video games. They’re as good as they were during his short few years as a carefree teenaged prince. He brings one of his handheld devices with him everywhere, playing on the subway or before classes start. Aulea even picked up on the hobby. Other parents complain that their children play too much, so it’s fun to have a mother who asks if he’s up for a round of Super Moogle.

As he sits with his father on a bench in the subway station, he catches up on his crafting in one of his favorite games. Regis is dragging him on another father-son “character-building” excursion. Which usually means volunteer work, a long walk among the historical districts of Insomnia, or a fishing trip. Noctis doubts this is a walk or fishing trip, with temperatures outside dipping nearly to freezing. Volunteer work is nice. He hopes this will be at the animal shelter again.

He is so engrossed in his game that he doesn’t notice Regis’ hand nearing the cord of his ear buds. Suddenly his left plug pops out.

Regis says, “You could pay this much attention to your school work.”

“I already know the material,” grumbles Noctis. “I’ve lived it. And they’ve got it all wrong.” Historians paint Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV as some powerful, strong savior, always giving little attention to his personality. 

“I try my best to tell them Noctis was a sweet boy who loved fishing and was a very mischievous child, but it’s hard for people to think of their heroes as anything but warriors.”

“I wasn’t _that_ mischievous.”

Regis quirks an eyebrow and says nothing. Noctis fingers around the cord until he finds his missing earbud. He doesn’t need to hear whatever wordy recollection Regis is about to launch into, and he knows one is coming. They definitely don’t need to be having this conversation in public.

“Your Majesty?”

Oh great, someone overheard them and is mockingly going along with it. Noctis glances up, but what he sees is a little kid, no older than seven, dropping to one knee and bowing his head at Regis.

People stare as they walk by. It’s embarrassing, and Noctis immediately wants to tug his coat up over his head and never leave the house again—not unless leaving it means finding Ignis, in which case he would run naked through the snowy streets if necessary.

Noctis glances at his dad for instruction, but Regis only grins the same way he did when Noctis got in trouble in fifth grade for bad-mouthing Caelum Day. (Hey, it’s _weird_ to celebrate a holiday in honor of yourself.)

“Cor, get up.”

Cor? That little pipsqueak is _Cor?_ Noctis whips his gaze back over to the kid, taking in the messy but low-cut hair, the round face, those wide, earnest eyes…

Noctis starts laughing—mostly out of shock—before Cor finishes standing. He earns a glare from the child form of the marshal, but he doesn’t care. 

Cor brushes off the dirt and keeps his shoulders square as he turns back to Regis. 

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“No wonder we couldn’t find you. If Clarus is a kid, too, that’ll be the end of me.”

While Regis has a good laugh about that possibility, Noctis’ heart drops like lead to his stomach. If Clarus is a kid, that means Gladiolus and Iris might not be with him. This reincarnation cycle has gone all wrong to make up for all the parts it gets especially right. What else will it change?

What if Ignis is a child, and that man Prompto spotted is someone else, someone who only resembles Ignis?

“Cor, where are your parents?”

Cor scrunches up his nose, which would be an adorable sight if he didn’t look so displeased. “I ran away. My foster parents are ill-equipped to handle their jobs. I’ve reported them several times for neglect, but the social workers won’t take me seriously because I’m a child. Everyone’s lucky I can take care of myself, but looking after the other kids has been exhausting.”

Noctis’ hands curl into fists on his lap. People who can’t listen to the complaints of the state wards have no business in working with them and handling their future care. Maybe Cor will be all right, but what about the other foster kids? That isn’t fair to them.

“You can’t live on the streets, Cor.” Regis has kicked into Dad Mode. 

“Thought I’d give it a try.”

“How old are you?”

Cor sighs like an old man and takes a seat on the bench next to Regis, his feet swinging. When he notices Noctis peeking around Regis and staring, he halts and glowers. 

“I’m eight, now. I remember muttering ‘fucking finally’” —Cor says the words a little louder, earning some horrified looks from passersby— “when I was on my death bed. Do you know how long it took me to die?”

Noctis has a good idea of how long. “You were alive when Ignis and I died. You were, what, ninety-seven?”

“Yeah, I made it to a hundred and nine. Talk about dragging things out.”

“Died in diapers, reborn in diapers,” Noctis teases.

Cor lunges across Regis toward Noctis, but an arm across his chest pushes him back into his seat. Cor’s small body trembles as he puffs out with each deep breath. His eyes are watering, too, tears streaking down his red face.

“It was a bad joke. Sorry, Cor.” Noctis isn’t being completely sincere, but he feels bad for this child. Not Cor, though. Cor from the previous life would have playfully pinched his ear and told him to can it.

“I’m sorry, too. Being a child again is frustrating.”

“And you get tired easily,” adds Regis. “When was the last time you slept, Cor?”

Cor shrugs. “Been a while. Once I reached the city, I came down here to take a train to the library. I thought looking through their archives would be the best way to find you.”

“Where is this foster home of yours? You sound like you’ve traveled far.”

“I’m not going back.”

“Aiming to be ‘Cor the Homeless’ in this lifetime?” Regis’ tone upgrades from concern to the kind that often starts with “listen here, young man” and never bodes well for the receiver. Noctis would know. He is ninety percent of the reason that tone exists. That and children who run in the museum or try to touch the displays. “Cor, I understand that you think you can take care of yourself, but you can’t.”

Cor opens his mouth to protest, but that only seems to rile Regis up. Noctis scoots a couple of inches away from his dad and lowers into his seat. It feels like he’s the one his father is scolding, perhaps because he’s been given similar lectures.

“You’re a little boy right now, with muscle memory and wisdom from a previous life but no way to execute it in your current physical state. You need food, water, and someone to take care of you. I might not fancy dragging you back to a negligent foster home, but I will be contacting authorities and seeing what strings I can pull.” 

“This is going to sound childish, but I’d like to stay with you.”

Noctis turns his head. Cor looks determinedly up at Regis, wearing a blush that turns even his ears pink. Before anyone else can say anything, Cor continues on.

“I’ve searched for months, Regis. I didn’t expect to find you as soon as I entered the subway, but I’m glad I did. Now we can get things back on track. Find the others. Make the most of this.”

“We’ve already been searching.” Regis’ voice softens. “But Cor? How did you know to look for us?”

“A gut feeling. If this has happened to me before, I don’t remember any of my other past lives. This time, I started to remember bits and pieces of it as I got older. Something would trigger a memory. Not everything, though. Sometimes I know I’m looking for someone, but…” Cor studies Regis’ face. “It took me a moment to recognize you. You look the same, but it didn’t click right away.”

Noctis knows what that is like, because of what happened with Prompto.

“Noct and I are the same,” says Regis. He starts gathering his belongings. “I think we should find a better place to talk than a public subway station.”

Noctis agrees. There are too many people about, none of them paying much attention to the trio, but any standing nearby must think they’re all weird. Not that it isn’t strange. Noctis is trying to adapt his search processes with Prompto around all this new information, attempting to make sense or find patterns in this reincarnation cycle.

He gathers up his belongings and stuffs his game system in the pocket of his jeans, following just a bit behind Regis, who is side-by-side with Cor. 

“What about your father?” asks Cor. “Ki—Mors?”

“Oh, he’s here, too. Lives out in the suburbs with my mother. I know it’s them, but they don’t seem to have any recollection of past lives. I once tried talking to them about it, but I only confused and worried them.” Regis catches Cor’s hand in his as the crowds thicken, and Noctis’ eyes widen. His dad does that sometimes, perhaps as an instinctive parental thing. 

“Regis!”

Regis glances down at Cor. “What’s wrong?”

Noctis muffles his laughter against the sleeve of his coat.

“You’re holding my hand.”

“Oh. Well, you are a child, Cor.” Regis swings their arms between them, and Cor leans back and tries to jerk his hand out of Regis’ grip. “Calm down, I’ll release you. I was only having fun.”

Cor only fights harder, and Regis lets him go. The child figure stumbles back, almost losing his balance. 

“You’re still immature,” Cor grumbles. 

“That’s Dad for you.” Noctis might not be entirely thrilled with the idea of some of their friends being reborn at strange times because of what it might mean for his search for Ignis, but he can’t help but think this entire situation is amusing. 

~*~

“Oh wow, can I come see him?”

“No, Prompto, Dad took him to the police station.” Noctis snorts back his laughter while Prompto whines on the other side of the line. “But if they get their way, Dad’s going to apply for adoption and Cor will stay with us.”

“What? Really? So Cor will be your little brother!”

“If it works out. Dad says adoptions can take months or even years.”

“Oh. That sucks.”

Noctis agrees. More than likely, Cor will be placed back with his previous foster family or shipped off to one that could be better, the same, or even worse. It isn’t a great situation. Even his Dad—after all his jokes—looked scared for half a second before they left for the police station. Regis doesn’t openly show his fears and concerns, but there’s always a quick moment in his eyes where he allows his feelings be revealed. 

Aulea is more openly worried about the situation than any of them. Once she saw Cor, she let out a string of curses and then offered Cor a slice of pie. It might have seemed insulting, but even kid Cor understood that Aulea was just being Aulea. Everyone had pie and talked about what they should do. Afterward, Regis gave Cor a bit of cash to hide in his shoes and took him to the police station.

It has been three hours, and Regis still isn’t home yet.

Noctis thought calling Prompto would help. But now he’s skirting around the issue that has been nagging him since he sat at his computer desk and pulled up his browser.

“What if Ignis is a kid, too?”

The line goes quiet on the other side. Noctis uses one finger to slowly type in a search for birth announcements in the Insomnia Library archives, but he deletes the first word when he finishes. He can’t do it. He’s more afraid of what he’ll find than he is of finally having answers.

“No way, that guy I saw—” 

“Maybe it wasn’t him.”

“It was definitely Iggy.”

Noctis wishes he possessed Prompto’s certainty and enthusiasm. The ache in his heart grows wider every day. His connection with Ignis is spiritual. He has known him by every name since their first birth, and being away from him is more than loneliness or parting from a spouse. For Noctis, it is not unlike having his heart ripped from his chest and bleeding out for years until Ignis returns to him. 

He finds the strength to submit a search. If Prompto is certain, he won’t find anything. The database doesn’t offer him any children who were named Ignis in the last year—aside from a few babies whose last names are born with the surname. That happens a lot. People have gotten more comfortable over the past centuries to adopt the names of dead heroes and royalty. A movement that had good intentions but now deters Noctis’ search for his companions.

Even if he is _the_ Noctis Caelum, he is hardly the only one these days. Not that there are many of him—maybe a handful in the country, but enough to be confusing. The only name that doesn’t circulate is “Lucis”—it is the name of the country and the line of kings from the past. All the orphans from the world of ruin and new parents afterward didn’t dare cross that line.

One time, Noctis ran into a Caelum Scientia, a little boy with dusty brown hair and wide brown eyes whose mother had taken him to one of the history museum’s events. Noctis had been a volunteer at the time, and he instantly preferred this child to any of the others. Call it a bias, but the kid was not only cute, he had their names. It didn’t hurt that Caelum asked questions politely and drew Noctis a picture of a rather enormous cactuar that still hangs on the fridge because Aulea thought it was the “cutest darn thing”.

But even if a baby named Ignis Scientia happens to be born, that doesn’t mean that the baby is _his_ Ignis. Couldn’t the people have chosen to honor their heroes a better way than naming themselves and their children after them?

Noctis closes up the browser after the search. Nothing to worry about for now. He wants to have Prompto’s confidence about the man in the restaurant. Perhaps it is time to go back, at a busier time of day, and try his luck.


	3. Chapter 3

Noctis is exiting the house when a car pulls up along the curb in front of their house. He doesn’t think much of it until the man who steps out crosses the lawn, waving at him.

“Are you Regis and Aulea’s son?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a social worker from the Lucis Child Services.” The man pulls out an identification card with an official government stamp. It says his name is Auguste. “Is it all right if I spoke to you? I wanted to interview about the child your parents want to adopt.”

“Oh. Okay. Come in.” Noctis pushes open the front door, which he hadn’t locked yet, and allows the man inside. Maybe if this doesn’t take long, he’ll still make it to class. He always likes to leave a little earlier to eat lunch, but maybe he’ll grab a quick snack instead. This is really important. It seems kind of selfish to tell the guy to make an appointment. Regis said they like to drop in unannounced to get an idea of what the home might be like at any given day.

Eyes peer around, assessing—no, _scrutinizing_ —the Caelum household. Auguste accepts a glass of water and makes notes while he asks Noctis a few rather invasive questions about his parents’ methods of raising children.

It is at the tip of Noctis’ tongue to say his parents aren’t going to be raising Cor. That “child” has accumulated at least a century of memories and would be more than willing to decapitate the first foster parent who dares mistreat him.

Noctis doesn’t say that, though, because Regis has threatened Noctis with a not-so-fictional storybook publication of Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum’s adventures as a child if he messes up their chances of adoption. Noctis shouldn’t care. It isn’t as if anyone will know it’s _him_. That Noctis is dead. But he knows it’s true, even if the public doesn’t, and that would still manage to be embarrassing. 

It isn’t like Noctis would ever mess up Cor’s chances, either. While Cor’s previous foster family lost their license due to neglect, and his current one more suited to the former marshal’s tastes, they all agree that they’re family. They should be together. (Even if it is weird and all sorts of horrifying that someone who used to be an uncle to Noctis is going to become his younger brother.)

“My parents are nice,” says Noctis when he tires of the social worker’s questions. “Mom’s the best.” A warmth spreads through his chest, and he can’t help but smile. “Dad teases a lot, but he tells great bedtime stories.”

Auguste nods and thanks him for his time. One glance at the clock tells Noctis all he needs to know. By the time he reaches the campus, his first class will probably be close to halfway over. Not that it’s that big of a deal. His parents will understand, and he’ll talk to his professor about the situation. 

The change in his plans is disruptive enough that he texts Prompto to cancel their meet-up at the restaurant later that evening. Traffic is even worse than usual. Noctis only has to wait a few minutes for students to filter out of the room before he corners his professor and explains what happened. Fortunately, she’s more than understanding and promises to email him.

He doesn’t get to look at Prompto’s response until he has finished talking to his professor. When he glances at his phone, his mouth hangs open for a moment.

It’s a short message: _I found Luna!_

~*~

After a flurry of texts and an eventual phone call between the rest of Noctis’ classes, Noctis heads over to Prompto’s house. It turns out finding Luna has led to the discovery of others, but she insists on giving him the details in person.

He parks in the circle drive next to the rose-enshrined water fountain, although the vines have frozen for the year and are laced with frost. The butler lets him through the double doors in front before he can raise his fist to knock. 

Noctis steps into the giant closet to the side of the foyer, where guests and owners can place their coats and shoes without tracking anything through the imported Altissian carpets. A pair of beaded sandals not usually tucked on the shoe rack catch his eye. Those must be Luna’s. He hangs his coat next to a woolen raspberry jacket that no resident of the Argentum household would dare buy. 

Prompto’s room is more like an apartment inside the rest of the house. He has his own bathroom, a kitchenette, a game room with the comfiest vibrating chairs in the world, and the bedroom. It’s bigger than Regis and Aulea’s entire house. One side of his game room is made of nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows that face the front lawn; Prompto and Luna more than likely saw him pull into the drive earlier.

Noctis knocks as soon as he reaches the third floor.

“Come in!” shouts Prompto on the other side of the door, and Noctis turns the knob. Before he can cross the threshold, a blur of a person runs at him and wraps two arms around his neck.

“Noctis! It’s so good to see you!”

Noctis finally peels Luna off of him a few seconds later. She wears a shirt that looks like it was made out of an Altissian tablecloth two hundred years ago and a pair of faded jeans ripped at the knees. She smells like sweet-scented incense and tea.

“Noctis, Prompto was telling me all about your search,” says Luna, guiding him to the sitting area in front of the television set. Prompto grins from his favorite chair, which purrs as it vibrates. Noctis keeps to the edge of the leather sofa, one knee tapping against Luna’s.

“How did you two find each other?” asks Noctis, glancing between them. 

“She was doing a tarot reading at my favorite café,” says Prompto. “Went in to get a latte and recognized her right away. And guess what? She knows where Cindy is! And some guy named Nyx.”

“And Libertus and Crowe,” adds Luna. She keeps Noctis’ hand tucked in hers, setting them on her lap. Warmth spreads through his fingers and up his arm. How good it is to see her alive.

He recognizes those names—they were once glaives of his father’s, and Regis talks about them sometimes. He knows about Nyx most of all, because Regis has always referred to him as his most loyal glaive. And the most self-sacrificing. In fact, Regis will be delighted if Nyx is doing well. He has always said Nyx deserves a long, indulgent life after what he went through during Insomnia’s fall. 

“How old are you?” asks Noctis. It might not be polite to ask people their age out of the blue, but he doesn’t think it matters much in a situation like reincarnation.

“Twenty-seven next month,” says Luna. “You?”

“Twenty-two. Same as Prom. What about the others?”

“Nyx and Libertus are both thirty, Crowe is twenty-three, and Cindy is twenty-five.”

“And she’s dating all of them,” adds Prompto.

Noctis widens his eyes. “All of them?”

Luna laughs and shrugs her shoulders. “Mostly. Cindy doesn’t live with us—we’re more friends with benefits.”

Noctis tries to push down the envious feeling in his chest. Luna is older and has been through so much; it’s only fair she has met up with more people from their past. And it makes sense that the glaives would search for one another. Some of them were like family.

“What about Ravus? Your parents?”

“All accounted for. Ravus is younger this time.”

Noctis grins. “I bet he loves that.”

“He’s twelve right now, and I can’t say he acts much like a younger brother. He still lectures me.” Luna sighs. “It is strange to hear him praise you, though—I thought for sure he would consider you an enemy until the end, but he told me what happened.”

“I’m sorry.” Noctis gathers her in a hug, overwhelmed by the grief he thought he had processed long ago, in another lifetime. “You should’ve been there with us. All of you.”

Luna withdraws, smiling at him pityingly. “Noctis, don’t you understand? I think that’s what this is now—a way for us to be together. To enjoy a real life.”

Then where is Ignis? And all the others they are missing?

Maybe she notices the distant look in his eyes as he stares over her shoulder, thinking of a face he only somewhat remembers. Feels the desperate tug of a soul too far away from him that aches within his breast. 

Luna brushes his bangs out of his eyes and plants a kiss to his forehead.

“We’ll find him,” she promises. “Everyone has been searching for one another, you know. Prompto says your parents are the same as last time, and so are mine. We should set it up so they can meet soon.”

“I don’t know if Dad can face your moth—” 

“It’s fine,” says Luna firmly, glaring at him in a way that reminds him of Aulea when she’s telling him off. Noctis knows better than to argue.

But it’s between Regis or Luna, and which one is the most stubborn? 

From his vibrating chair, Prompto laughs. “Good luck!”

~*~

Noctis dumps his school bag on one of the empty chairs at the table and hands his mother her car keys. Aulea cups them in her palm and tilts her head at her son. Her blue eyes are filled with tenderness. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Noth—” 

“Noctis.” Aulea’s gaze sharpens. “What’s wrong?”

“We found Luna and a bunch of others. And I missed my first class ‘cos one of the social workers showed up.”

“Oh.” Aulea pulls him into the seat next to her. She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling and doting and wonderful. He leans against her touch. Having a mother is the best feeling—especially one he never had the chance to know. There have been a few like that. Mothers who have died young in his previous lives. Some even outlived him. He forgot them all. Why were Regis and Aulea so important, above all the rest? 

Was being Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV more important than all the other names?

Luna thinks the gods have to do with it. If that’s the case, they shouldn’t be interfering, not even if they’re attempting to apologize. For all they fix, they break things along the way. There is no giving without taking. And if they have taken Ignis…

“You’ll find him,” says Aulea, with maturity and confidence Noctis doesn’t possess. “And he’ll be in your age group, not a child like Cor. I’m sure of it.”

“Ravus is a kid, too.”

Aulea’s eyes widen but she switches quickly to a smile. She can’t hide the concern in her gaze, though—not from Noctis, who knows her well after all these years. 

“He’s _twelve_.”

“Oh, that’s adorable.”

“Not adorable,” grounds out Noctis. 

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Aulea sets her hands in her lap. “What is Lunafr—Luna like?”

“I’m not sure. Different from last time. Freer.” That is the nicest way he can put it without calling her _weird_. “We didn’t have a lot of time to talk, but I’m supposed to go over and meet the others at her house soon. Well, I guess it isn’t her house. Did you know she’s dating half the glaives?”

Aulea’s eyes widen before she snorts. She gathers her graying brown hair behind her neck and snaps a band around it before she stands up.

“Daddy’s making dinner tonight,” she warns.

“Waffles?” Breakfast food is about the only thing Regis doesn’t screw up, and Aulea isn’t a better chef.

“Can’t we order out?” groans Noctis, sliding deeper into his chair. “Maybe I should’ve warned the social worker about your cooking habits. No way would they let Cor live here if they found out.”

“Oh, hush. It’ll be fine.”

Even more reason to find Ignis: Ignis has several lifetimes of being an excellent cook under his belt. The only thing that can save the Caelum household is that Noctis has some ability to make easy dishes, even if his hamburgers lack enough seasoning and his mac and cheese is always a little crispy when it comes out of the oven. Worst comes to worst, there is always ramen to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am also envious of Luna and her big poly family. I just want her happy and loved. <3


	4. Chapter 4

The house where Luna lives looks like it has been the location for half the horror movies made—even the ones back when Noctis was a prince. The three-story home doesn’t match the usual architecture of Insomnia, not even the houses found in suburbs where Noctis grew up. Sloped roofs are not common except in smaller towns. Cracked stones lead up to wide, slanted stairs. The deck croaks with every footfall, and Noctis fears he might fall through the boards—right onto a corpse some serial killer hid beneath, no doubt.

“ _This_ is Luna’s fuck pad?” asks Prompto, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Noctis jams an elbow into his ribs. “Don’t call it that.”

“Seriously, she’s dating _four_ people. I can’t even get into _one_ relationship.”

“That’s ‘cos none of ‘em are Gladio.”

Prompto sighs, trying to pass it off as theatrical, but Noctis knows how badly it hurts. It seems insensitive of Prompto’s feelings to say he misses Gladiolus, too. At least Noctis has a lead on Ignis; they have nothing on Gladiolus. But they’ve already found two people in a short amount of time and are about to meet others. Doesn’t that mean their futures might be changing for the better?

Noctis rings the bell. Even the sound of the chime is ominous. Crawling through old caverns filled with daemons never bothered him much, but he didn’t get the impression he would be cursed upon entering those places.

Luna swings open the door. An assortment of necklaces rests across the collar of her bright red shirt. She wears the same jeans as last time. Chopsticks hold her bun in place. 

“Come on in!”

The living room has far too many side tables covered in candles. Sunlight filters in through the red crocheted curtains. There are a few repulsive looking chairs—the kind people might find in an antique shop.

A pleasant smell of sylleblossom incense mingles with the scented wax.

“Cindy can’t make it today, but I’ll give you Cid’s information so Regis can contact him,” says Luna, leading them up the stairs—disorienting, crooked steps with a landing that sports window with more lacy curtains. The red crocheted draperies sway from a draft—at least, Noctis hopes it is a draft, and not the previous owners of this home sending a signal that it’s time for everyone to leave.

They make their way up to the topmost floor, where most of the rooms have slanted ceilings. Luna guides them into a spacious den filled with beanbag chairs circling in the middle. A little to the side is a table, and atop it sits a stack of tarot cards. A more modern looking sofa shoved against one of the walls beneath a window holds the sleeping body of a young woman with messy brown hair. 

Luna bends down and nudges her.

“Crowe, they’re here.”

“About time,” mumbles Crowe, rising up and stretching out her arms. She waves at them as she yawns. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Crowe slides off the sofa and crosses the room. She takes Noctis’ chin in her hands and yanks his head back and forth.

“I guess he looks about the same.”

“Almost,” says Luna.

“I always saw him from a distance. Can’t say this isn’t a little weird.” She releases Noctis’ chin and turns to Prompto. “Never saw you. Guessing you’re Prompto?”

Prompto blushes and nods.

“Cool.” Crowe flops down into one of the beanbag chairs. “Welcome to our humble, cheap ass abode.” She pulls a lighter out of the pocket of her jeans and leans over to light candles on a side table nearby. “We missed the bill, so there’s no electricity.”

“No electricity…?” Prompto repeats.

“That explains the candles everywhere,” says Noctis.

Crowe smirks and shakes her finger at Noctis. “He’s got it. Do you know how many candles you can buy for 100 gil?”

“A lot?”

“Yup, and a lot of incense. Luna likes to buy incense, says it puts her in the mood.” 

Luna frowns. “I only ever buy the sylleblossom incense. And even you said it smells pretty.”

Crowe grabs a blanket from another beanbag and draws it over her shoulders. “No heat, no lights—we’re lucky Libertus and Nyx always cook us food at the restaurant and bring it back, or we’d have to eat sandwiches and chips.”

“Where are Libertus and Nyx?” asks Noctis.

“They’re taking care of food and beer,” says Luna.

“Alcohol and candles—cheap alternatives since we can’t afford electricity.” Crowe grins. “And you have to flush the toilet with a chain. We have a lot of toilets. Five of them.” She holds up five fingers. Her grin drops away and she lets out a suffering moan as she curls up on her beanbag. “I hate this place.”

“Crowe doesn’t like it here,” says Luna. “But I love it. I miss the heat, of course, but Nyx says we should be able to get it back on soon. They’re still getting the restaurant on its feet, but things are looking up. I even made 250 gil on tarot readings the other day. And Crowe just got a new job.”

Crowe nods. “Problem is, I just started, so it’ll be a while before my paychecks help. Until then, we’ll risk burning this haunted house down. Not that that’d be a bad thing, as long as I didn’t get cursed for it.”

Noctis feels a bit too relieved that someone else shares his sentiments about the building, since he doesn’t want to offend Luna by saying something mean. He doesn’t know how Luna keeps warm without a jacket on. Even Crowe wears one indoors, and Noctis wouldn’t mind curling up in a pile of blankets even with his coat on. 

Luna settles in front of the table and begins fiddling with her cards. 

“I’m going to do a tarot reading, for love,” she says sincerely. “I don’t have the same powers granted to me as in the last lifetime, but I’m still something of an oracle.”

“Tarot reading? For love?” Noctis raises an eyebrow.

Luna frowns and holds out a hand with the cards faced down. “This is to help you find Ignis and Gladiolus.”

“You think it’ll help?”

“It won’t tell you specifics, but…” Luna smiles. “Let’s start.” Her arm stretches out, cards offered to him.

“I hope so,” says Noctis, plucking one card out from the deck and giving it to her. He is willing to try anything, even things that he would have mocked last week as impractical and silly. Like tarot readings and hypnosis and crystals. Actually, he would like to avoid all crystals, if possible. Not even Luna’s abilities as the oracle will change that aversion. 

~*~

After the readings, Noctis is glad Nyx and Libertus have arrived. After a quick round of introductions, Libertus and Nyx bring the food up in little boxes and lay them over Luna’s tarot table, and almost everyone eats right out of them with their bare fingers, pulling roasted spicy garula meat dripping in sauce right from the bone. There are toasted rolls, too, and vegetable skewers Noctis ignores. The beer lies in a cooler nearby. Noctis fishes one out and chugs half a bottle down. 

“Rough tarot reading?” asks Nyx, eyebrow raised.

“It wasn’t bad,” says Noctis.

“It’ll be a while before he finds Ignis,” says Luna, stacking her cards up. She seems as upset and conflicted as Noctis feels. “A few more weeks. We have a night.”

“Oh, so it’s the wait?” Libertus pats Noctis on the back.

“We couldn’t find anything out about Gladio,” whines Prompto, who doesn’t touch any of the food or drinks. Luna slips an arm around his shoulders.

“But you still know when,” says Nyx, pointing at Noctis with his still-capped beer. “That’s better than nothing.”

“We don’t know where,” says Noctis. “Maybe it’s the restaurant where Prompto spotted him. But what if I show up there, and he’s somewhere else? I don’t want to miss him on the one night I have a chance…”

“It doesn’t work like that,” says Nyx. “I usually roll my eyes at this stuff, but Luna’s cards aren’t wrong. You’re always where you’re supposed to be.”

“Doesn’t feel that way when I’ve walked into the wrong class on the wrong day,” says Noctis.

Nyx grins and pops open a beer of his own. “Works like that sometimes.”

Noctis doesn’t mind hanging out in this creepy old house—having lots of company and alcohol helps. The food is delicious, too, once he gets his own plate filled and digs in.

“This is good,” says Noctis. “What’s the name of your bar? I’ve got to stop by.”

“Galahdian Nights,” says Nyx. “People come for the mystery and stay for the food and drink.”

Galahd is nothing more than ruins, now—a part of fallen history. There are some places that recovered from ten years of darkness, like Lestallum. But places like Galahd were already hurting before the daemons reigned over the land. There are whispers of what the traditional food was like, but it has been passed down from word of mouth, generation to generation, so often that it has changed.

Libertus and Nyx have made it their mission to bring such food back. 

“Sometimes my mom and sister help out, when things get busy,” says Nyx. “But it’s hard to work with family. My mom always shoos everyone out of the kitchen. Doesn’t help when we’ve got lines of customers and half our chefs have been chased out.”

“My parents can be like that, too,” says Noctis, thinking of all the times his parents have stayed up late into the night, pulling out books and hunting down websites over one petty historical disagreement. “Well, I don’t think it’s that bad when they’re actually working. They’re just passionate.”

“What do your parents do?”

“They work at the history museum.”

“Bring up food, see how your parents cooperate.”

Noctis scrunches up his nose. “No thanks. Neither of my parents can cook. They used all their skills up on perfecting waffles.”

“Dude! You can’t cook either.” Prompto nudges him in the side with an elbow. “Don’t eat over at the Caelum household if you want to live. Death in every bowl. You’re better off standing in front of a malboro than taking on one of Aulea’s famous experiments.”

Nyx raises an eyebrow and takes a long drink. “How is Ki—Regis?”

“Dad’s happy. He wants to meet you someday.”

Luna leans forward. “That reminds me—” 

Oh, crap. Here it comes. Regis has ignored Noctis every time he brings up meeting with Luna’s family.

Noctis shakes his head. “He won’t answer me, Luna.”

Her eyes narrow. “Keep trying. Warn him that if I have to come over and fetch him myself—” 

“Mom’s working on it,” says Noctis quickly. “Trust in her, but give it some time. Might take a month or two.”

Luna folds her arms over her chest. “We’ll be waiting.”

They might be waiting a long time. Noctis might have said “a month or two”, but he’s being optimistic. Regis isn’t one to evade responsibility, but when it comes to certain matters, he’ll take every escape given to him. Noctis has been trying to talk Regis into a pet cat or dog for a lifetime, and his father always manages to find an excuse to slip out of the room or change the topic immediately. He once climbed out of the bedroom window, claiming he saw a unique colored squirrel, all because Aulea mentioned that he needed to go shopping for new pants.

Regis will face this eventually if given the right amount of time. Pushing him will only make the process harder and longer.

In the meantime, Noctis needs to think more about the upcoming night where he supposedly will meet Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poly relationships mean a lot to me, and I feel like Luna deserves all the support in the world. There's a bit of found family in this, too, where everyone comes together. 
> 
> I based their house on my great grandparents' - it freaked me out as a kid for some reason, even though it was a big, beautiful house in so many ways? The interior was not decorated the same, though. xD (It had less bathrooms, but you did have to pull a chain to flush the toilet on the main floor. And when you opened the door, it pulled out two stairs with the door so that you could climb up INTO that bathroom. Was certainly weird.)


	5. Chapter 5

Noctis doesn’t work full-time anywhere. His parents would rather he focus on his studies, and Regis wants him to volunteer his time when he can. But in order to have spending money, Noctis needs part-time work. The twenty hours a week at the bookstore are generous to him. Even better, he is allowed to do some of his homework during the lull at the end of the night, in the last hour before the doors close—as long as the store is clean and organized and he doesn’t have customers waiting on him. 

Prompto comes in sometimes to pester him and buy comics. He isn’t the patron Noctis wishes for; he applied to bookstores specifically in the hope that Gladiolus and Ignis would continue their interest in reading during this lifetime. 

Prompto waits on Noctis’ afternoon shift to end before they walk to Prompto’s car. Noctis doesn’t have a car and has to borrow his parents’ car—which is more Aulea’s, since Regis claims to prefer public transportation. (Noctis is pretty sure he just missed the Regalia.) It isn’t easy driving around Insomnia, anyway, and sometimes it’s faster to take the subway than navigate in a vehicle.

Noctis would rather drive than be driven when it comes to Prompto. Even with another lifetime’s worth of lessons, Prompto is easily distracted. But this time, they’re both quiet for a while. Prompto doesn’t even put on music.

“Luna’s meeting us at the restaurant,” says Prompto after a while. “I’ll cover everyone, if you want me to.”

“No, just cover Luna. I can afford my own bill.”

“Dude, let me treat you. It’ll be fun.”

Noctis wants to meet Ignis, but he doesn’t think he’ll have a great night until that point. It’s a weekend around dinnertime, which means the restaurant will be packed. They had to make reservations, too. 

“I hope Ignis will be there this time.”

Noctis feels another one of his slumps coming on. This is their second trip to the restaurant during the evening, and Noctis has gone a handful of times during lunch. They don’t have any other leads, but Noctis is beginning to wonder if maybe they’re trying this one place too hard. What if Ignis didn’t like it the first time? What if they’re always going at the wrong times of the week? 

What if that wasn’t Ignis at all?

“Hey, whatever you’re thinking? Stop thinking it.” Prompto smiles at him for half a second before he slides into the parking garage near the restaurant. “You heard Nyx. Luna’s tarot readings are always accurate.”

“I hope so.”

The sun recedes, and with darkness comes a frosty chill that sends Noctis huddling further into his coat. Luna stands outside, waving at them. She wears her raspberry coat and her sandals—Noctis has yet to figure out why she insists on wearing them in the middle of winter. 

“Tonight,” she promises as soon as Noctis is close enough. She smiles warmly at him, and he wants to give her a hug for having more faith than he does. Without Prompto and Luna, he might have fallen apart already.

Prompto reserved a table that allows them to see who enters the front door and who walks in and out of the bar. It is a good spot, especially when the restaurant is so crowded. There are several patrons gathered at other tables, and the bar booths are all filled up. Noctis orders some of the salmon with fried potatoes. Their order takes forever, but Noctis occupies the time by sipping on his wine and listening to Prompto and Luna’s conversation about her childhood in Tenebrae, and how her family decided to move to Insomnia when she turned seventeen. It even comes up that she has a high tolerance for the cold, and she waves it off as “being raised in a cold place”. 

After a while, though, the restaurant starts turning people away when they walk in. A sign that says “Reservations only” has been put out, and crowds of disappointed people leave the way they came. Hopefully Ignis and his party have a reservation… 

“Any sign of him yet?” Noctis directs his question at Prompto, who sits across from him and has a good view of the front door. 

“Not yet.”

Noctis sets down his wine glass. “I’m going to the bathroom.” 

He has had too much to drink and has to pee. The restrooms are through another room—beyond the bar. He tries not to stare too much at anyone for long, especially when he sees the backs of people’s heads as they sit at their tables. He hopes he’ll get a better look at some of the patrons on his way back to the table.

After washing his hands, Noctis splashes cold water on his face and dries it off with pats of a paper towel. What if he looks stupid? No. That doesn’t matter. Ignis would never care. Noctis has never been imperfect in Ignis’ eyes, and the same can be said in reverse.

Noctis takes a deep breath and returns to the restaurant. He drags his feet a bit, pretending to move out of the way of a server so he can get a good look at one of the guys seated at a corner table. No, the guy looks nothing like Ignis. This is getting more hopeless by the minute. Perhaps Prompto and Luna will have good news for him when he returns—even if Ignis is one of the people turned away at the door, Noctis doesn’t mind having to chase after him in the cold. 

As he turns back to continue toward his table, he glances over at a table near the doorway to his section of the restaurant. 

Ignis is seated at a crowded table with three other people. They’re all chatting amicably, Ignis’ eyes shining as he laughs. His hair is swept to the side, some of his bangs brushing against the upper rim of his glasses.

Noctis freezes. His heart jolts. Like every time he has ever met Ignis for the first time in previous lives, tears fall. He can never stop them. No one understands what it is like to find the rest of your soul, how fulfilling it is to finally have the other piece put back into place.

Ignis glances up at Noctis for a brief second, but he doesn’t notice his tears. Doesn’t seem to feel anything before he turns back to the person sitting across from him and continues his chat.

Did he not get a look at Noctis’ face?

Noctis doesn’t want to interrupt the group, and something he can’t explain makes him nervous in a way he has never felt before when it comes to Ignis. He takes his time walking past their table, trying to catch snippets of conversation, but it is hard to hear anything over noise from other tables. Ignis glances back up at him once, but only for a second. 

As if Noctis is a stranger to him.

Walking back to join Prompto and Luna is like slipping through a dream. Noctis lowers into his chair, in too great a state of shock to say anything.

Prompto finally slaps his hand gently. “Noct, you okay?”

Noctis’ gaze focuses. His friends are frowning at him. 

“He’s here,” whispers Noctis. “But I don’t think he recognizes me.”

“What? Are you sure he saw you?”

“He looked right through me and turned back to his friends.Twice.”

“Which table?”

“He’s sitting on the other side of that wall,” says Noctis, nodding his head. “I didn’t see him until I was leaving the bathroom.”

Prompto shakes his head and tosses down his napkin beside his plate. “Hold on.” Prompto leaves before Noctis can say anything else.

It does more than hurt. Noctis feels indescribable as Prompto returns, his frown even tighter than it was when he left. Prompto plops down in his seat.

“He didn’t recognize me when I walked by,” says Prompto. “I even waved, but I think that creeped everyone at his table out…” He circles the rim of his wine glass with one finger. “Has this ever happened before, where it took some time before he recognized you?”

“No, never.”

Noctis can barely touch his meal when it arrives. What went wrong? Should he be glad Ignis isn’t an adult? But what if…

What if that string that always connected them through time has been severed? Is this a punishment from the Astrals for his defiance? For rearranging the order, holding off on his death when he should have taken his last breath with Ardyn?

“Don’t overthink this, Noctis,” says Luna. Her voice is stern but her gaze soft. She squeezes his arm. “Tonight is the night. Something will happen. The stars have ordained it.”

He swallows down the bitter words that would accuse her of being only a half-shot oracle, grasping at straws. If he can’t be with Ignis, what does it matter if those around him feel his pain? But that’s not the kind of person Ignis would want him to be in this situation. That isn’t the person he wants to be, either.

Noctis manages to swallow down a few bites of food and have the rest boxed up for later—leftovers his mother will be happy to dive into later that evening. He gathers up his coat while Prompto pays the bill. Luna curls her fingers around his and smiles determinedly. 

“Thanks, Luna.”

“Any time.”

It’s bitingly cold outside, and a wind that chills right to his bones stripes Noctis of his scarf. He turns around to chase after it. It lands near the front door of the restaurant, in front of a pair of stylish shoes. A hand tucked inside a leather glove picks it up from the ground and hands it to Noctis.

“This must be yours,” says Ignis, and Noctis stares at the familiar face, the familiar voice. The accent has changed only a little with the times, but it is still home to Noctis.

“Yeah. Thank you.” Noctis takes his time retrieving it, captivated by Ignis’ gaze.

“Are those your friends?” asks Ignis, nodding at Luna and Prompto as they wait for Noctis a few yards ahead.

Noctis’ soul plummets to his stomach.

“I think one of them waved to me earlier. And I saw you in the restaurant. I don’t mean to be forward, but were you checking me out?”

Noctis’s eyes widen and threaten tears. 

“It’s okay,” says Ignis, apparently mistaking his pain for surprise. “I thought you were quite attractive, too. I guess it might be a good thing you lost your scarf—I thought you might have escaped me.”

“I’m Ignis.” Ignis holds out a hand and Noctis takes it. 

“Ignis…”

“Yes? And your name?”

“Noct. Er, Noctis.”

“Noctis. Like the last king.”

“Yeah, like that.”

Ignis smiles. “His husband was Ignis.”

“You don’t say?”

“Yes, well, maybe it’s fate. Or a silly coincidence. You could give me a call, and we’ll find out?” Ignis’ cheeks go pink, and Noctis suspects it isn’t from the cold.

“I’d like that.”

Ignis fishes out a card from his coat and hands it over before one of his friends calls him away. He nods and smiles at Noctis before pivoting on his heel and hurrying after his companions. 

Prompto and Luna run up beside Noctis, hanging on his arms.

“What was all that about?” asks Prompto.

Noctis sucks in a breath and swipes at his tears with the back of his hand. He can’t read the number on the card. Worst of all, how does he read this situation?

All he wants is to curl against his mother in her embrace and weep.

“Take me home,” he says, stuffing the card in his coat pocket. “I need to go home.”

~*~

Noctis can rely on Aulea for many things. Having a mother can be a wonderful thing, he thinks, as he settles against her and feels her fingers through his hair. They’ve got popcorn and a movie and share their reliable fluffy blanket. 

He doesn’t care if he is twenty-two years old (or hundreds of years old, really) and being treated like a small child. It’s a nice feeling, and everyone should have a mom like Aulea. If they don’t, well, Noctis is willing to lend her to the downtrodden. 

Regis is in bed, having been rejected as the comfort parent. It isn’t that Noctis doesn’t want him, but there are times for Regis, and there are times for Aulea. This isn’t one of those moments where a fishing trip or a drive out to the country will settle things, and Noctis prefers crying openly with his mother’s arm around his shoulders and her fingers combing through his locks. They sit there wordlessly for a while as the movie drones on. She lets him cry as much as he wants. Even when it gets late into the night, she never tells him to go to bed.

The movie is one of Noctis’ childhood favorites. Some charming cartoon about a network of post offices run by moogles who deliver mail to the farthest reaches of the world. No distance is too far to reach, even with adversity and weather standing in the way.

Noctis has a number. That’s something. He hasn’t yet inputted it into his phone, but he knows he will when he’s ready. He set the card on the desk in his room so he wouldn’t lose it, but he has the digits memorized. He should have offered his number. A guarantee that one of them would somehow reach the other.

It isn’t as if Ignis doesn’t want him. But Noctis isn’t interested in falling in love the hard way, like everyone else. Long ago, he must have done that once. Met Ignis for the first time so many lives ago he has forgotten what it feels like to search for someone.

Noctis knows from watching television and seeing classmates date that relationships don’t always last forever. They’re precarious, flighty things that can take off immediately and crash land with hearts shattered. Some people don’t hurt that much when they fall out. Others find several people to share a life with—kind of like Luna. 

What if Ignis decides he doesn’t like Noctis after all? That would devastate Noctis’ soul to splinters. There is no way he could recover from that.

Aulea brushes back Noctis’ bangs and kisses his forehead. 

“It’s terrifying, baby, but we’re here.”

Noctis nods, the lump in his throat preventing him from any speech. What cruelty has befallen him, and who can he blame for it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Please don't be angry with me. ;A;


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The jacket Noctis wears on his date is basically like [this](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1jYMyKpXXXXc6XVXXq6xXFXXX7/Plus-Size-2016-Brand-Slim-Mens-Jackets-And-Coats-Casual-Bomber-Jacket-Men-Manteau-Homme-Khaki.jpg)!

Noctis doesn’t call Ignis the next day, and he almost doesn’t the day after. It isn’t because he doesn’t want to. He stares down the phone, typing in half of the memorized digits before he exits and shoves his face into his hands. What if he seems too eager and scares Ignis away? 

Noctis almost wishes he had work or classes to distract him. If his parents didn’t have to work that Monday, it would have been a great day to go fishing with Regis. The weather is mild—it’ll be a few weeks until spring, but it is unseasonably warm—and he could ask his father about his visit with Cid. His parents had to drive all the way out to Hammerhead to meet with him Sunday. Aulea almost cancelled after Saturday night’s fiasco, but Noctis assured them he would be fine. It gave him the privacy to curl up in bed and weep until he was too dehydrated to spend anymore tears. 

As soon as Prompto finds out Noctis hasn’t contacted Ignis for nearly two days, he hurries over to the house after his classes and sits on Noctis’ bed, ticking off reasons why Noctis shouldn’t hesitate.

“He wouldn’t give you his number if he didn’t want you to call.”

Logical, sure, but that doesn’t stop Noctis from flopping over onto his side and burying his face in a pillow. Prompto scoots closer and tugs at his arm until he sits back up again.

“Hey, you’re not going through this alone. I’ll even hold your hand if you need me to! Just make the call already!”

Great friends that last more than a lifetime are a priceless treasure, Noctis thinks. With Prompto’s fingers laced in his, he dials carefully, doublechecking that the memorized numbers match those on the paper. The phone rings all the way to Noctis’ heart, piercing and shrill. Once. Twice.

“Hello?”

When Noctis hesitates, Prompto motions with his free hand for him to go on.

“It’s Noctis. From the other night. At the restauarant.” Little bits of information, discarded casually as if Ignis has never known him for thousands of years. They’re shards of glass in his heart. Shards that dig deeper, ripping apart his soul. 

“Yes, I remember.” There is a smile in Ignis’ voice. “I was worried you wouldn’t call, and wished I’d thought to ask for your number.”

The shards in Noctis’ heart slowly withdraw. “Yeah, I got a bit nervous. Hope it’s not too late to ask for that date.”

“I would be delighted to go on a date. What time is good for you?”

Noctis blanks. He can’t say “now, forever, any time—I’m all yours!” or it might sound weird, so he shrugs his hand out of Prompto’s and reaches for his scheduling notebook. He flips it open and skims over it.

“Thursday night is good. I don’t work, and I don’t have classes late. But I work Friday and Saturday. Pretty late, unless you want to go out during the day.”

“Thursday night is fine,” says Ignis. “I’ll see you then, Noct.”

“See you, Ignis.” 

Ignis hangs up first, and Noctis stares down at his phone as the call screen disappears. He adds Ignis’ phone number to his contact list and glances up at Prompto’s grinning face.

“You’ve got a date!”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You could sound happier about it.”

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Noctis leans forward and cups his head in his hands as warm tears spill. He leaves a mess of them smeared across the screen of his phone, but he doesn’t care. “This doesn’t make any sense, Prompto.”

“At least he isn’t a kid, like Cor and Ravus? And he’s your soulmate, Noct! No way is he going to reject you.”

“Then why did he forget? What if we finally find Gladio, and he doesn’t know who we are, either?”

Prompto doesn’t answer, and Noctis scoots closer to him on the bed. Physical comfort is something he never had enough of in his previous lifetime—and some others before that—and this time, he seems to need it more than ever. 

~*~

Noctis cannot decide what to wear. The previous Ignis loved him in sweatpants, in casual clothing, and even in hospital gowns drenched in feverish sweat. This Ignis might take a bit more convincing.

“Dad, what do I wear?” Noctis shouts down the hallway and shoos away Aulea when she answers first. 

“ _I_ would know better than Daddy,” says Aulea, sniffing before descending down the hallway. 

Regis appears in Noctis’ bedroom a few minutes later. He wordlessly circles his son, picking lint off the shoulder of his blue dress shirt. Smooths out the creases with a little tsk, because in no lifetime has Noctis ever possessed the patience or need to iron clothing perfectly. 

“You need a suit jacket. Do you know where he’s taking you?”

“No.” Ignis texted him the night before to let him know what time he was picking Noctis up, but he made no mention of where they would be eating. “Probably nothing _too_ fancy.”

Even if Ignis has forgotten all their past lives, he would still be the same person—someone who would be content to have a relaxing evening at home, calling food in or going to a ramen stand. 

Regis doesn’t know these things about Ignis, because he was only aware of Noctis’ relationship with Ignis. He didn’t get to watch them go on dates or see them spend time together while curled up on the living room sofa or coming over for dinner to meet the family. It had to have hurt, missing out on all those fatherhood moments, which is why Noctis isn’t thrilled about rejecting his suggestion.

“I think I’ll be fine without a suit jacket,” says Noctis. “I’ll wear a nice coat.” He adds the last part to be diplomatic.

“What kind of nice are you talking about?” Regis raises an eyebrow. “Getting you to wear anything but hoodies since you were little has been one of my greatest struggles as a father…” Regis sighs. “I couldn’t even see you off to your first school dance…”

“No thanks.” Even if Ignis had been able to take him, would he have gone? Not likely.

“You could have had a little fun in your youth! No reason you couldn’t have invited a nice friend and gone…”

Noctis rolls his eyes. “No, Dad. It would’ve felt like cheating, and you know I’m not into that kind of thing. I have better ways to enjoy my youth.”

“Eating chips in bed while binging video games.” Regis snorts. “Very well. Wear one of your ‘nice’ coats instead of dressing up in a suit.”

Noctis poses in front of the mirror, side to side, smoothing his hand over the fabric of his outfit. Maybe he ought to listen to his dad, but times are less stuffy than they were even when he was a prince. People don’t wear suits to dates, especially not first dates. 

And Ignis and Noctis never _needed_ it before. Not after the first time they connected so many centuries ago. Noctis hopes whatever traits Ignis found attractive in him to ask for a date are still present in this ensemble. Perhaps some mysterious power will draw them together, and something will trigger a memory in Ignis that brings them back to the level of comfort they shared before.

Noctis chooses a nice jacket he has worn to semi-important museum events. No one complained back then, and he thinks he looks pretty good in it. Maybe Ignis will agree.

“You look wonderful,” cries Aulea when he steps out into the living room. Her fingers brush invisible lint from the shoulders of his jacket. “He’ll be asking you for a second date the moment you open that door.”

“Mom…” 

Aulea steps back. “I know, Noct. This is scarier than it is fun for you right now. But as your mom, I’m giddy about seeing you out on your first date. Don’t forget that he still chose you despite not remembering. When you’re older, you’ll want to hold onto this memory, too—won’t you?”

With a plea like that, how can he be annoyed with her? Not that he is—she’s just being a mother, and he missed her often in his previous life. 

Aulea squishes his face between her hands and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead. Before she releases him, the doorbell rings.

Noctis jumps in surprise before he regains composure and answers. To avoid his parents saying anything weird in front of Ignis on accident, he slips out onto the front porch and shuts the door behind him. 

“Hey,” says Noctis with a trace of a smile. His stomach and chest feel fluttery as he glances Ignis up and down. Handsome, dressed in casual but tasteful attire.

“You look marvelous,” says Ignis. 

“You look better. I guess my house was easy to find?”

Ignis holds up his phone. “Not a problem with GPS.”

Noctis’ neighborhood isn’t exactly difficult to navigate, but he grew up in these reconstructed suburbs after a lifetime of But Ignis might not remember—or is it just Noctis and his associations from the previous life he has forgotten?

Noctis pushes back the thought before it sours the mood of their date. 

“I’m glad you called me,” says Ignis as he leads Noctis to his car. “I wasn’t sure if you would, since I’m only the stranger who picked up your scarf.”

“Well, I was checking you out in the restaurant.” For other reasons, but Noctis decides not to say anything weird. The last thing he plans to do is imply they’ve had other lives together. The only one he wants to hear about that from is Ignis, but Noctis knows this isn’t some elaborate prank to make their relationship interesting. That wouldn’t be _his_ Ignis. And neither of them would be pleased with the other to play games. 

Still, it hurts more to have one remember and the other forget than to have this turn out to be a prank.

Noctis settles into the seat of Ignis’ car. It isn’t as fancy as anything they drove back when Noctis was a prince, but it is well cared for, stylish, and clean. He would have had to tidy his mother’s car to use it for the date, if he had picked Ignis up or met him at the restaurant—Aulea and Noctis have a habit of gathering books and jackets and random items in the backseat. Only recently did Noctis stop leaving fast food wrappers on the floor, and only because Aulea chewed him out for it.

They don’t talk much on the drive to the restaurant. Ignis and Noctis exchange information pleasantly, like their workplaces and what college Noctis goes to and the one Ignis went to—nothing too engaging, but information that is good to know. Ignis mentions that he has his own place, having moved out of his parents’ house that year. 

Noctis wants to ask about Ignis’ parents, but it would sound like prying. Isn’t that considered too personal for a first date? All he wants to know is if they’re the same people Ignis lost when he was a little boy in their last life. What of Ignis’ uncle? 

“Any siblings?” asks Noctis. A safer topic in which to sate his curiosity.

“I’m an only child. You?”

“Only child, but my parents are adopting Cor. Er, he’s this kid…” Noctis scrambles to explain it without using “the marshal”—words at the tip of his tongue. “He’s in the system, and my dad helped him. He’s seven.”

“Your parents sound like wonderful people.”

“They are,” agrees Noctis, and he settles against his seat with a pleased smile. The evening has started well enough. “It’s kind of strange getting a sibling when I’m already an adult, but I think my parents have always wanted more kids.” 

“Ah, that reminds me—how old are you?”

“Twenty-two. You?”

“Twenty-seven this last February. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. I don’t mind that you’re older.” That makes them four and a half years apart. For two souls that have lived an accumulation of hundreds of years, that is hardly a difference. Noctis is just glad Ignis isn’t a child.

There are so many things he could joke about, and Ignis any other time would have laughed. But this one…

“So… Where are you taking me?” Noctis tries to sound playful about it, but there’s a note of dread that seeps through—one that carries the concern that they might end up at a vegetarian restaurant where Noctis will have difficulty finding anything edible.

Ignis blushes. “If it’s all right with you, there is a fireworks festival going on tonight along the river, and there will be stands lined up along the walkways. I hope you don’t mind street food?”

“Mind? No way, I love street food! I forgot about the spring fireworks festival. I didn’t get to go last year—after it was rescheduled because of the snowstorm, I ended up having to work.” 

“It might get a little cold tonight, but the forecast says we’ll have clear skies until Tuesday.” 

Noctis glances out the window, up at the twinkling stars. “Perfect for stargazing.”

“Yes, and it’s perfect for fireworks. Do you like fireworks?”

Noctis doesn’t remember a lifetime where he ever decided he outgrew them. The dazzling displays that lit up the sky in every era he has been alive. He has enjoyed them in dreams with carbuncle, has held hands with Ignis while they popped with color against the dark night. Those memories are enough to keep fireworks from ever being too childish.

“I _love_ fireworks.”

Ignis smiles in relief, and Noctis thinks that maybe subconsciously—somewhere deep inside—he hasn’t truly forgotten Noctis.

~*~

Noctis belly is full and warm with delicious foods. The fireworks brighten the sky in bursts of colors that paint across Ignis’ pale face. There is a stain on Noctis’ blue shirt from the sauce that dripped off one of his skewers, but it is hidden under the sweater Ignis offered him when he got cold. It smells like all the scents Ignis has loved over their lifetimes—a fine cedar and citrus blend of cologne, not too overpowering, and some hint of fabric softener. Ignis pulled it out of the backseat of his car. It is exactly like Ignis to keep things for emergencies.

Noctis wears it beneath his jacket and huddles as close to Ignis as he dares as they sit on a bench alongside the river. The fireworks reflect across the surface of the water, basking them in a glow of celebration. Noctis would love to stay there forever in that moment, if only he could bring himself to lean in toward Ignis.

He could use the excuse that it’s far too cold for late March. There is a good chance Ignis wants a second date. But why ruin that by being too forward?

Ignis is the one who takes Noctis’ hand first. His fingers thread through Noctis’, and that’s when Noctis realizes it would be all right to snuggle closer. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed tonight, Noctis,” says Ignis. “I thought it might be too romantic for a first date.”

Noctis almost says that the date is perfect, that Ignis is perfect. Instead, he feels the itchy crawl of a blush bloom across his cheeks and whispers rather bashfully, “I had a good time. I hope you did, too.”

“It’s been a marvelous evening. May I take you out again this weekend? Saturday, perhaps?”

Noctis tries to remember his work schedule off the top of his head. “I work pretty late that day. I’ll have to text you my schedule, but I should be free if you don’t mind going out late.”

“Let me know. I’m…eager to see you again.” Ignis dips his head down, but even in the flashing lights of the fireworks, Noctis is sure he’s blushing as well.

Noctis wants to kiss him, but he can’t. Not now, not when Ignis doesn’t know. It feels almost as if he’s taking advantage, withholding knowledge about their relationship Ignis _should_ know. It hurts, but there is hope. Ignis hasn’t rejected him at all tonight. Perhaps the second date will go even better. 

After a handful of dates and learning about one another’s current lives, they might build a new foundation of trust.

And then Noctis promises he will tell Ignis everything.


	7. Chapter 7

Friday morning, Auguste brings Cor with him to see how he interacts with the family, and Noctis finds it so amusing that he delays replying to Ignis’ texts to watch the shit show. Auguste misses all the times Cor tries to call Regis “your Majesty”, but Noctis counts the slip at least four times. After a while, Cor—much to the concern of his social worker—grows agitated. Regis simply laughs it off. Their entire family must seem insane. 

“What do you think of the house, Cor?” The way Auguste says it, it’s as if he’s addressing an actual child and not Cor the Immortal. “They have a nice room all set up for you.”

The room in question is the former library, and Noctis spent one day several weeks ago hauling boxes of books either to his parents’ closet, his closet, or the trunk where Aulea could later deposit them in the nearest library’s donation box later. His back aches just thinking about it. Marilith had nothing on hundreds of books. It wasn’t as if ebooks weren’t invented in their last lifetimes, too—could his parents calm down with the printed editions? Especially when they have always favored hardcover over paperback?

The room got a makeover after they finished clearing it of five thousand dusty tomes. To be obnoxious, though, Regis took out some of Noctis’ old things from childhood. There is a moogle nightlight—Noctis missed that thing and plans to steal it back once Regis is done with his prank—and a chocobo racing rug. Some inexpensive plushies were bought, too, as well as a few cheap window decals of cartoon characters. 

Cor hates it. From the look on his face, he wants nothing to do with reliving childhood. Nothing worse could have happened than having a bedroom made perfect for a seven-year-old, and his cute little face turns red from embarrassment when he sees it. Noctis makes sure to snap a blackmail picture with his phone.

Cor glances up at Auguste and scowls. 

“It’s okay, he doesn’t have to like the decorations,” says Aulea. “We’ll change them when he moves in.”

“That’s nice of you,” says Auguste optimistically. “Hear that, Cor?”

“I want it black.” Cor looks directly at Regis when he makes this statement. “Paint the walls black.”

“Black is wickedly hard to paint over,” states Regis. “I’ll see what I can do to give this a little less color. But the nightlight is staying.” He looks directly at Noctis, who has just finished placing the stolen item in his pocket. “Noctis.”

“I thought it could go in the hall,” mumbles Noctis, plugging it back in. He plays with the switch, watching the moogle’s pompom light up and then go dark. He’ll have to think of a better time to steal it away. It isn’t fair at all. He loved that moogle as a kid, and it gave him all sorts of lovely dreams—that and the carbuncle plushie that still sits on his bed—but one day it disappeared.

“You could always go to antique shops and look online for vintage nightlights,” says Regis.

It isn’t the same, but he’s not about to tell Regis that. _This_ one had a name. No replica will be exactly like Balloon, named because baby Noctis thought its pom-pom resembled a balloon. 

Auguste leaves with Cor, promising to get back with them on whether the foster-to-adoption will work out or not. He doesn’t seem to be rejecting the family’s desire to adopt, but…

“You’re on adoption probation?” asks Noctis as he watches the car pull out of their drive.

“Something like that.” Aulea sighs. “We’ve never fostered or adopted a child before.”

“We’ve been told that adoptions can take months or years,” says Regis.

Noctis has lost track of the weeks their family has spent on paperwork and random visits from social workers. How come they don’t do this much work for foster homes? Then maybe Cor wouldn’t have ended up at one that didn’t know how to take care of the overload of children. 

“It’s okay,” says Regis, rubbing Noctis’ back. “We don’t mind. All the pieces will come together eventually.”

Noctis hopes that will be the case. He can reach out and touch Ignis, but they have never been so distant—not even during the periods when they had yet to find one another. If only Ignis could remember everything. They still have others to bring back into their circle of family and friends. Prompto has been pouting more than usual since Luna’s tarot readings haven’t given him any leads on Gladiolus. Last week, he signed up for two new gym memberships in the hopes that he might spot Gladiolus working out somewhere.

“Did you find anything out from Cid?” asks Noctis, knowing his father would have already told him if there was any information to share. 

Regis shakes his head. “No, unfortunately not—he’s content to stay out in Hammerhead. He makes it sound like he’s not looking, but I know he’s searching as hard as the rest of us.”

Even if Regis doesn’t voice it, he wants to find Clarus and Weskham and so many others. If only he would meet with Sylva, perhaps another piece of their pasts would be unlocked. Luna thinks it might be key in opening another pathway—whatever she means by “pathway”—and as Nyx promised, she hasn’t been wrong so far on her readings.

If only her cards would tell her where to find Gladiolus.

Noctis owes it to Prompto to spend some time helping him search again. Just a short promise that they’ll get together Sunday morning. Noctis will swing by the bakery and get them all sorts of treats and hot chocolate to indulge in while they continue their search.

Prompto sends back a happy face and an agreement to come over Sunday.

Noctis then hops over to his chat with Ignis. They’ve already scheduled plans for a date Saturday night, after Noctis gets out of work. 

It’ll be a busy weekend, and Noctis knows he needs to take care of the pile of homework sitting on his desk. He puts his phone away, grabs a cola from the fridge, and resigns himself to a busy afternoon of essay writing and studying before his night shift.

~*~

After chatting more with Ignis through texts and their successful date the other night, Noctis isn’t nearly as nervous about this date as he was the first. He has a short time to hurry home from work and get himself all cleaned up and dressed before he picks Ignis up. He made a point to clean out the car after work Friday, even vacuuming it in the garage around midnight. Regis complained about the noise, but Noctis isn’t about to disgust Ignis, even if his previous selves have always known Noctis doesn’t have the best habits. 

Finding Ignis’ place is kind of tricky. The Caelum’s car doesn’t have built-in GPS and is about ten years old. She’s a reliable vehicle, but she is nothing like the Regalia. Cars aren’t made the way she was back then, and the few luxury models that do exist cost more than his parents’ yearly salaries combined. 

Noctis weaves through narrow streets until he finds the parking garage for Ignis’ apartment building. Up the elevator he goes until he reaches floor eleven. A wintery wreath with white and blue flowers adorns the front door—Ignis sent over a picture of it to make it easier for Noctis to find his place, since the numbers on the doors are too small to see from a distance.

Ignis answers almost immediately. He steps aside to let Noctis into a clean, comfortable living space. A huge entertainment system in the living room is flanked by built-in shelving, and Ignis has packed it with books and weapon displays. 

In fact, there are a lot of daggers and swords along the walls, all of them worn from use and beautifully crafted.

“Do you like swords and stuff?” asks Noctis.

“Oh, I guess that’s a bit startling to see.” Ignis tries to step in front of the wall that displays a set of swords, his cheeks tinged pink.

“No, it’s interesting…” Ignis had no problems with training for the Crownsguard, and he could even be caught fooling around with his daggers from time to time—doing silly flips and tricks with them when he thought no one was looking.

“It’s the history behind them. A lot of antiques float around, but some of these are more expensive than others. One of the perks of my job is that I’m always able to read in my spare time, so I spend a lot of time researching weapons.” Ignis works at the downtown branch of the Insomnia Public Libraries. Most of Ignis’ life is lived in the inner city, which might explain why Noctis has never seen him in his little suburban bookstore. “My parents think it’s a dreadful hobby.”

Ah, a little insight into Ignis’ parents. Noctis thinks it might be too early to pry, so he doesn’t ask about them.

“Do you know how to use any of these?” Noctis gestures at a set of daggers specifically.

“I only have an idea. Again, I’m mostly interested in the history. There’s something about them that I’m drawn to, especially when I can get my hands on anything that was used during the world of ruin and a little before—things related to the Chosen King. I find that period of our history fascinating.”

Noctis swallows down the sour taste of bile coming up his throat. “Seems like everyone does. Look at everyone’s names. Half the guys at my college have Noctis as a first, middle, or last name.”

“I went to school with another Ignis, but at least he wasn’t a Scientia.”

“Seriously?” Feigning surprise sucks, and Noctis has never been good at it, but Ignis appears to buy it by the way he laughs.

“Yeah, Ignis Scientia. I try not to tell anyone. Online, I go by Sagefire—a bit embarrassing, but not as much as my real name.” That explains why Noctis could never find Ignis online; he never thought to search for spell names. 

“You want to know something even more wild? I’m Noctis Caelum.”

Ignis’ eyebrow raises. “You’re kidding.”

“Just Noctis Caelum. Not Noctis _Lucis_ Caelum. My parents would never take the joke that far.” The name lacks popularity, its history too dark for his parents to have ever dreamt of attaching it to Noctis ever again. “It’s still cruel, though, ‘cos my parents are Regis and Aulea. Guess they thought it’d be funny to name their kid Noctis.”

Noctis rubs the back of his neck and grimaces, but to his fortune, Ignis laughs.

“All those people who survived the darkness had great hopes and dreams for their children. We’re blessed with the names of heroes, but I wouldn’t want to have gone through what they did for the sake of the world.”

 _I have some terrible news for you_ , thinks Noctis. “Yeah, well, I kind of like their happy ending.” And he did—every sweet memory he shared with his Ignis as husbands until they died together one morning, not but a few minutes apart. If only Noctis had known how lonely his next lifetime would be, he might have held on a little longer to that one. 

“They do have a nice ending,” agrees Ignis. “I only meant that it must have been hard for that Ignis to be separated from his love for ten years. I don’t think I could go through that.”

Noctis understands that pain, and it tights like a hook in his heart. He forces a smile. “You won’t have to. Those days are over.” _And I’m right here, Ignis._

“I’m glad they are.” Ignis goes to his coat closet and pulls out a jacket. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Always, Noctis thinks, if he’s going somewhere with Ignis.

~*~

The second date goes better than the first in so many ways. Ignis chooses a twenty-four hour diner. They order warm drinks—coffee for Ignis, hot chocolate for Noctis—and drool over the dessert selection while they’re waiting on their meal. 

“This salted caramel cake looks divine,” says Ignis, tapping at the display.

“The chocolate lovers cake sounds even better.” 

“It does. How will we decide?”

“We can order two different things and divide them both,” suggests Noctis.

“I like the way you think, but how will we choose only two? I could order half of this menu.”

“You could always bake some of these.” 

Ignis laughs and closes the menu with a dull shake of his head. “No, I’m afraid not. Every time I try to bake or cook, it turns out to be a disaster. I can chop vegetables for salads and heat water for ramen.”

“Sounds like me,” says Noctis, knowing the laughter that follows must sound unconvincing. The surprise catches him off guard; this is the first life in which Ignis could not cook and didn’t express a passion for it. “I take after my parents, who spent all their skills on perfecting ulwaat waffles. My mom is slightly better than my dad, but if not for delivery, I’d live off cup noodles.”

“I’m afraid there are some nights I do exactly that. I eat out far more than is financially advisable.”

“If you want our next date to be cup noodles in front of the tv, I wouldn’t mind.” Noctis worries he sounds dismissive, so he adds on, “I like staying in.”

“So do I,” says Ignis. His eyes brighten. “Does this mean you’re already hoping for a third date?”

“Gods, yes.” The surge of confidence is refreshing. This is the Ignis he has known all his lives. Noctis basks in the amused but pleased smile Ignis shoots his way.

“We’ve barely started this one.”

Noctis wants to confess to Ignis that he’s been searching for him for most of his life, and that less than two dates is a mere fraction of the time they’ve spent together in other worlds, as other people. That it’s not coincidence that they have the same names as last time.

Noctis says none of that. When he opens his mouth, nothing comes out at all—not even an embarrassed protest.

“It’s fine,” says Ignis. “I’m happy you want another date. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”

“Hey, if I’d known losing my scarf would help me meet a really wonderful guy, I’d have lost it much sooner.”

“Ah, are you saying you caused that wind that night?”

“Not _that_ time,” teases Noctis, hoping Ignis doesn’t pick up on how much it isn’t a joke. The powers granted to him as Chosen King are gone—not even a whisper of them remains, unlike with Luna’s Oracle abilities—but that doesn’t mean he has forgotten what it was like to use elemental magic. How a magic flask could leave fractals of frost across the pavement and send a blast of air sweeping right through his clothes. Prompto would yelp and rub his bare arms, and Gladiolus would be unfazed despite being shirtless. 

Now he finds himself nostalgic for those days. He is a normal person, but at least back then, all of them were together. As they should be now. They need Gladiolus and Ignis, complete with their memories.

Until then, all Noctis can do is dance an awkward dance around the truth and hope he doesn’t scare Ignis away. He seems to be doing all right so far. Maybe there is still an invisible thread, connecting them together. If it has brought them together lifetime after lifetime, Noctis must remain confident that it will continue to bind them together.

He can’t help but imagine that thread looks a bit like the scarf he wore the night it blew away and Ignis picked it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments so far! It will probably be a few days before the next chapter is up, despite that it has already been written. I'd like to get a few chapters done before I upload more, and it might take a while because I'm going to be quite busy the rest of this month!


	8. Chapter 8

The searches merit nothing, and Noctis feels the weight of sadness in his stomach again. He can only imagine how Prompto must be feeling. They’ve spent all afternoon searching the internet for any username Gladiolus might have used, from “King’s Shield” to a list of his favorite authors. “Henruit” offers too many results—it will take weeks to sift through it all to see if any of those users might be Gladiolus. 

Prompto sighs from his place on Noctis’ bed. He has already closed his laptop up and laid his head on a pillow, and now he toys with the moogle nightlight that Noctis successfully swiped out of Cor’s future bedroom. Noctis spins around lazily in his chair.

“This sucks,” says Noctis, staring up at his ceiling. “I’m sorry, Prompto.”

“Hey, it’s cool. Maybe we can ask Luna for another reading soon. Besides—I joined those new gyms, remember?” 

“How do you even keep up?” Noctis _tried_ going to the gym. It just isn’t the same as a training room, and he grew bored of drifting from one piece of equipment to the next while trying to focus on spotting Gladiolus. 

“I rotate,” says Prompto, holding up his fingers and ticking them off, one at a time, as he lists each place. “YMC Eos on Monday mornings and Friday afternoons, Insomnia Fitness on Tuesdays and Thursdays…”

Noctis tunes out. Not from lack of caring, but simply because he wouldn’t remember any of those details, and he gets the gist of it. His YMC Eos membership will be expiring next month, and he isn’t about to pay the fee to keep it active—no matter how many perks and benefits they try to offer him in the mail. If he wants exercise, he has plenty of other ways to get it.

Prompto fish flops around on the bed like he’s dying, and Noctis pulls his attention back to his friend.

“What if you got a job at a sporting goods store?” asks Noctis, speaking before the thought even fully forms in his mind. “He might show up for camping gear or weights or—” 

“That sounds great, except my parents don’t want me to work,” says Prompto. 

“Really?”

“They want me to focus on college.”

And here Noctis had always thought Prompto didn’t work because his parents were financially stable and the family wanted to spend time with each other. That could still be part of the reason, but…

“Your grades still suck, don’t they?”

Prompto moans. “Not really. They’re not _bad_. Above average? My parents start worrying they’re not being supportive enough if I mention getting a job. They’re sweet, but they keep going on about how I shouldn’t worry—they’ll take care of me for as long as I need.”

“You shouldn’t worry,” agrees Noctis. If he could wish for one thing for any of his friends—and for himself—it is that they never have to be separated from family. Every moment with their parents is precious. 

“I’m surprised yours let you work,” says Prompto, messing with the nightlight again. He clicks it on and off a few times.

“They can’t afford my gaming habits. And I have to afford all those dates with Ignis.” Noctis regrets saying the last part as soon as it out of his mouth, but Prompto only smiles. Of course he would—he’ll never let on how much he’s truly hurting. “Make sure to save up for the dates you’ll go on with Gladio.”

“Thanks, Noct.” Prompto turns off the moogle nightlight and sits up. As he’s stretching out his arms, he nods his head at the door. “Hey, want to go to the arcade? We haven’t been in a while?”

Part of the reason behind the suggestion is to get their minds off of the depressing parts of this seemingly fruitless search. Another is to continue it; Prompto always hopes that Gladiolus will walk into an arcade looking for them.

Noctis doesn’t voice what Prompto must surely be thinking: Will Gladiolus remember them? Or will he be like Ignis, and know nothing of their past lives?

They’ll kill a few zombies or daemons and try not think too hard about it.

~*~

Aulea wakes up Noctis by leaping into his bed and screeching happily about them being approved to foster Cor. He notices the time on the clock and groans. It’s to early, even for good news.

“Mom, I’m trying to sleep…” Noctis draws a pillow over his head and rolls onto his stomach. 

She tackles him with a hug. “You have to get up for school anyway.”

“Yeah, in three hours.”

“You’re getting up now so you can have breakfast with us!” She pats his shoulder as she stands. “Come on.”

“Moooom.” He smothers a laugh by pressing his face further into his mattress. It has been ages since Aulea expected him to get up this early, and his family has a reason to be excited. After weeks of interviews and mountains of paperwork, his parents are on their way to adopting Cor. 

“Noctis Caelum.” His mother’s voice is mock-stern, and he can just imagine her with her fists on her hips, puffed out in his doorway. “Daddy’s making ulwaat waffles.”

Noctis lifts his head and sniffs. The scent of breakfast fills the air, tinged with the sweetness of berries. With less reluctance than before, he slips out of bed and stumbles to find his slippers in his less-than-warm bedroom. He spots Ignis’ sweater lying on the back of his chair. Would it be weird to wear it around before he washes and returns it?

He pulls it over his head and treads into the kitchen. A stack of waffles on a tray sits in the middle of the table, along with three bowls of fruit. Noctis slides into the chair next to his dad and spears three waffles with his fork, placing them on his plate.

“When’s Cor getting here?” 

“Later today,” says Regis.

“That’s fast.” For everything else, it has taken weeks. Noctis can’t imagine Cor owns many belongings to bring with him. Shuttling from foster home to foster home would mean things getting lost, and Cor doesn’t seem the type to embrace his childhood. 

“Well, since we’re approved, we can take in foster children easily,” says Aulea. “If Clarus or any of the others are children, we’ll just need to buy more beds.”

Noctis sincerely hopes Clarus is not a child and that Cor is the only kid they’re going to make room for, because the house will get crowded quickly at this rate. They’ll also have to come up with a bigger budget for groceries or rethink all the eating out they do. Will Noctis have to share his room or move out? Even if he moves into Ignis’ apartment, he isn’t ready to leave his parents’ home. He isn’t ready to leave his parents, and he wants to spend time with Cor, too.

“This is gonna be weird, having Cor around as a kid,” says Noctis. Will the house be livelier? How many katanas are going to be slipped into the house when they’re not looking? “He was always so cool.”

Regis puts down his fork and steeples his hands, feigning annoyance. “And why would you think Cor was cool, when you had me around?”

“You can’t _both_ be cool? And it wasn’t all the time. He could be annoying when he’d tattle on me and Ignis. He didn’t do it all the time, but…”

“Not all the time? And just what mischief did you two get up to that I didn’t know about?”

Noctis snorts. “Like I’d tell you now. There should be a rule that I can’t get in trouble for what I did a lifetime ago.”

“Depends on what you did.” Regis stabs another two waffles off the middle plate. He hums as he covers them in berry jam and whipped cream.

“Stop teasing him, Regis, or I’ll tell him what you used to get up to as a child.” Aulea picks off another waffle as well, leaving Noctis with competition for the last few. It’s a rare morning when they get waffles, and there is always a battle with utensils as the supply dwindles. Someone always gets stabbed on accident. No one ever thinks they’re too full to eat more; the war on waffles is a highlight of living in the Caelum household. 

“That threat won’t work on me, seeing as you’ve already told him everything—even the things he heard from Clarus.”

“I know all of it,” says Noctis, nodding. He snags two more waffles and counts over what is left. One solution to the waffle shortage is to have them every single morning for the rest of their lives. No, that wouldn’t solve anything. They would still fight, and that might result in more than a little scarring from fork tines. Noctis once tried to make a batch on his own without parental help, thinking that he might have been on to the greatest idea of a lifetime, but they did not come out well. They never had the same flavor or consistency as Regis’—Noctis is pretty sure waffles shouldn’t be burnt on the outside and ooze on the inside.

By the time they’re finished discussing Cor’s arrival (sometime that afternoon), Noctis reaches for the final waffle. No one seems that interested in it, and it might be one of those rare moments where everyone else is full. Noctis shouldn’t eat anything more. Still, he makes a move toward it, only for Aulea’s fork to spear it and transfer it to her plate in a flash.

“Mooom!” No amount of puppy dog eyes will convince her, but he hopes the whine will make her feel slightly guilty.

She doesn’t look the least bit ashamed as she takes a bite and chews smugly.

“Better get ready for Cor’s arrival,” she tells her son. “As soon as he’s here, we have to figure out how this will all work. Can’t talk about our reincarnations while the social worker is here, right?” 

“Right.” Noctis doesn’t think he’ll be able to sneak back into bed for a few hours on his day off this time. They have a lot to think about, including how they’ll start finding the others. 

~*~

The first family meeting with Cor involves going over the rules. Noctis sits in, thinking he’ll be in for a boring time—he knows what his parents expect of him, and Cor probably does, too. Really, they’re _all_ adults here. Noctis once tried to argue he was the oldest and wisest of them all, because he retains memories from several past lives, not just his most recent one. Big mistake.

Noctis has one suggestion for Cor: Don’t repeat his error.

But there isn’t a chance to pass on advice; Regis launches into the rules, and they’re every bit as ridiculous as he should have expected them to be.

“The first rule of the house is you have to call me ‘Dad’—or ‘Daddy’, if you prefer.” Regis strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Well, maybe ‘Papa’ or—” 

“Shut it, Regis.” The little squirt sitting in his own chair across from Regis has a stare that looks about fifty years older than the body it belongs in. “That isn’t a rule. A rule is ‘no katana cleaning on the dining room table’ or ‘make sure your socks are custom Crownsguard black’—not what I’m going to call you. Which is ‘Regis’.”

“This isn’t the Crownsguard. We don’t have any rules about sock colors here.”

“You can be a kid if you want,” says Aulea. “No one will make fun of you for it. Or else.” A dangerously stern frown is sent in Noctis’ direction, and then in Regis’. “Most memories start to come back around the time you’re four or five years old, and they don’t come back all at once.”

“It wasn’t a problem for me. I remembered things suddenly and clearly.” Cor sits in his chair like a miniature adult, his legs and back straight with his palms resting on his knees. If someone were to bark orders for him to do two hundred pushups, Noctis has a feeling Cor would drop down and do them all one-handed without breaking a sweat. It’s a bit surprising that Cor is kind of scrawny. Noctis has trouble imagining him as anything but a six-foot-tall tower, even as the evidence sits in front of him. Cor’s strides used to have no trouble closing in on Ignis and Noctis as they ran away from the scene of a broken flower vase or some other childish crime. 

Noctis scoots to the edge of his chair and leans over to ruffle Cor’s hair. Eyes narrow to slits at him, and he can feel another, more threatening gaze on him.

“Noctis Caelum.” Aulea crosses her arms.

“It’s _funny_ , Mom.”

“Did you not hear me about how no one is going to make fun of Cor?”

“I can take care of myself, Aulea,” says Cor. Despite his childish voice, he still has the aura of a grumpy older man. At least he seems a bit more relaxed. He leans back in his chair. 

“Ah, that reminds me, Cor,” Aulea begins. She holds up one finger. “First rule of the house: no weapons.”

Noctis snorts into his arms and is surprised when Cor doesn’t react.

“Why would I need a weapon?” asks Cor. “I can make anything I need out of household ite—” 

“I will _ground_ you if you dare.”

Cor stares her down like he doesn’t believe her, and Noctis vigorously shakes his head in warning. Some threats should never be dismissed as bluffs. Aulea can be as fierce in scolding as she can be in hugging someone to death—and sometimes, her punishments are creative. One of her favorites is making everyone watch family movies. Knowing Cor, he’ll hate every minute of _Homeward Chocobo_ while Aulea huddles with him under a blanket and munches on candied popcorn.

Noctis always secretly enjoyed those moments during his childhood. They’d usually have a chance to talk about it like civil adults, but the blanket and candied popcorn would come out eventually, and Noctis doesn’t think anyone can outgrow having someone in their lives like Aulea. If Noctis manages to have a child in this lifetime, he hopes he’ll be a lot like her as a parent.

It stings when he thinks about parenthood. Even in other lives, Ignis and Noctis never managed to so much as adopt a child. There were times they wanted to, but it seems to be a curse that carries on through every rebirth. Perhaps this lifetime will bring about a change in that. 

_If_ he can hang onto Ignis. They are a long way off from Noctis telling him the truth, and he knows that at some point, it will come out. Nothing hurts as bad as deception—except maybe having a soulmate forget you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be working, but instead, I am editing this fic and posting it.
> 
> The best part of writing for FFXV: coming up with alternative names for everything, like YMC Eos and Homeward Chocobo. (This isn't sarcasm, I really do have fun with this.)


	9. Chapter 9

Noctis wrings his fingers around the handles of the bag before thrusting it nervously into Ignis’ arms. 

“What’s this?” asks Ignis.

“Your sweater,” says Noctis, and he can’t bear to look his boyfriend in the eyes. If this had been the Ignis from all the other lives, he wouldn’t feel nearly so ashamed. “Or. Well. It _was_.”

“Was?” Ignis parts the edges of the bag and peers in. One hand tentatively reaches in and lifts the bunchy, tattered remains of the soft sweater Noctis wore an unfathomable amount of times before washing to return it. “Oh my.”

“I didn’t read the tag…” Noctis stares down at his feet. How was he supposed to know you couldn’t throw certain clothes into a washer? Or dry them on high heat? It’s a sweater! What good are they if you can’t pull them out of the dryer, fresh and warm, and snuggle in them? “Can I buy you another one?”

“Noctis, it’s no big deal. I’m not worried about it. I have other sweaters.” Ignis jams the sweater back into the paper sack. When Noctis glances up, he catches Ignis’ reassuring smile.

“I want to buy you a new one. Please?”

“If it will make you feel less guilty about this, I suppose that would be all right. But it wasn’t even my favorite sweater…” It isn’t a lie, but Ignis is hiding a bit of the truth. Maybe it is his second best, maybe the one he wears when his favorite is dirty or doesn’t match the rest of his outfit.

“You still liked it, right?” Noctis decides it best not to say something weird, like how the other one always smelled like Ignis. It wouldn’t have, if Ignis didn’t wear it often.

“Well…” Ignis sighs, letting out a gentle laugh. “I was fond of it.”

Ah, something they have in common. Though Noctis only liked it because it reminded him of Ignis. It was soft, too, but there are nicer, more comfortable sweaters out there.

“See? I have to get you a new one!” One that will be Ignis’ favorite. Every time he wears it, he’ll think of Noctis. “As long as you don’t have expensive tastes.”

“I like to pay for quality while remaining frugal.” 

“Just promise me one thing while we’re buying a new one,” says Noctis.

“Hmm?”

“Get one that’s machine washable.”

Ignis responds the best way possible: by snatching up Noctis’ hand and smiling at him. Well, if that’s how it will be, maybe Noctis ought to ruin more sweaters.

~*~

The mall is quiet during the mid-morning hours, especially on a weekday, and Noctis and Ignis are able to enjoy a stroll around the perimeter before they hit up the shops. They pause to drool over the displays in front of the bakery as they’re circling aimlessly around the food court.

“We’ll have to come back,” says Noctis, sighing dreamily at the variety of cupcakes. “But first, we have to find you a sweater.”

They try Eos Outfitters, first, but Ignis lets out a low “tsk” at nearly everything as he pushes hangers from one side to the other. Some of the sweaters are made of scratchy wool; others look all right in color, but once the front is revealed, have strange fastenings or buttons that make them look hideous. Noctis doesn’t spot a single one that looks well-made, either.

And the majority of them are dry-clean or hand-wash only.

“Let’s try somewhere else,” says Ignis, taking Noctis’ hand.

Noctis’s heart could burst. Does Ignis know what this is doing to him? He hides a smile by dipping his head down and keeping up with Ignis’ long strides.

“Where should I try next?” asks Ignis, stepping up to the directory map of the mall.

“We could try Roadtrip? They have decent stuff.” Noctis hovers a free finger over the location. “Second floor.”

They continue to hold hands all the way to the elevator. Noctis is disappointed when Ignis lets go to press what floor to go up to, and he’s too frightened to reinitiate it. Instead, he points to the sign over the store once they’re close enough.

“There it is.”

To his delight, he doesn’t have to reach for Ignis’ hand—Ignis scoops his back up and squeezes it warmly. Noctis allows himself to be led along through the aisles of Roadtrip, occasionally reaching out to brush his fingers against the texture of a sweater to test its softness. Ignis vaguely mutters his approval of several designs on mannequins along the back wall.

“You’d look good in the purple one,” says Noctis. 

“You think?” 

Ignis in this lifetime wears a lot of grays and blues, and those look nice enough, but purple goes well with his green eyes. It always reminds Noctis of various things he has always liked—spring mornings when purple wildflowers sway lazily in the breeze, dark royal purple that outfits the bedrooms they’ve made love in…

Ignis seeks out one in his size. He hesitates before holding it up in the light with a critical eye.

“I suppose it wouldn’t look bad on me…”

“Try it on! Here, take this one, too…” Noctis fingers the material to test its softness. One look at the tag reassures him it’s machine washable. He lifts it from the rack and hands it to Ignis. The two of them manage to collect a handful of nice sweaters in various designs and colors before Ignis hunts down an employee to unlock a dressing room. Noctis takes a seat on one of the chairs nearby and flips through his phone messages while he waits on Ignis to show off how they look. 

It takes a bit long before Ignis steps out in the first purple one Noctis thought would suit him, and Ignis doesn’t look as keen on it as Noctis would have expected.

“What’s wrong?” asks Noctis.

“It’s not very practical. More fashion than function. I don’t think it would keep me very warm.” Ignis fingers the material. “It’s softer than the one I lent you, I’ll give it that.”

“What was the other one made from?” asks Noctis.

“Wool. That’s why you shouldn’t have washed it.”

“That was wool? It was really soft.” Noctis has always avoided most wool products with the same disdain he feels for vegetables.

“There are different types of wool. Garula wool is some of the cheapest—and coarsest. It’s more than likely what you’ve seen most wool products made from.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, I might get this one for fashion…” Ignis glances over at the full-length mirror and twists around to get a view of more angles. 

“You look good in it.” More than good, but Noctis doesn’t want to sound creepy.

“Thank you.” Ignis slips back into the dressing room, but Noctis still catches the grin on his face.

Ignis ends up buying the purple sweater from his own funds, and Noctis spends his money at another store for a dark blue cardigan that Ignis looks handsome in—as if Ignis would look anything but amazing. He could wear tattered clothing and still make Noctis’ heart beat heavy against his ribs. Only Ignis has the power to do that to him. More so these days than usual. 

Being in a somewhat new relationship is strangely nice and somewhat flattering. Nicer than Noctis thought it would be, after so many lifetimes of familiarity. Ignis still chooses him. 

They hold hands again as they walk back to the food court at the mall, and Noctis feels the giddiness bubble in him. 

First, they have pizza—slices so big, the corners stick off the edges of their paper plates. They decide to split one so they have room for dessert. The scent of the bakery appeals to them once more, and they buy two cupcakes. Ignis wants to try a chocolate cupcake, and Noctis wants the strawberry. 

After they finish, Ignis has to drive Noctis home so he can rest up before his evening shift at the bookstore. And Noctis can’t help but be glad to leave the mall. Despite being in the best company, Noctis has never been keen on clothes shopping. 

Ignis drops him off in front of his house and walks him to the door. 

“Thank you for the cardigan,” says Ignis. “And the date.”

He leans in and gives Noctis a soft kiss on the lips. Noctis curls his fingers into Ignis’ hair, nails grazing against his scalp. Everything about that moment makes him feel young and new. 

“See you soon, Noct,” Ignis says breathlessly when they reluctantly part.

Noctis wants nothing more than to reach out and beg Ignis to stay—tell him that they’ve been together so many lifetimes, it’s agony to part. As if every fiber of his being is being stretched across the distance between them, and he needs Ignis close in order to feel whole, to feel safe. But he doesn’t. He waves and smiles, and watches the car’s rear lights down the street, until they’re too far away for him to view.

The aching mixes with the delight. Nothing is more precious to him than Ignis, and they’re not even on enough dates yet for Noctis to say “I love you” without sounding desperate. 

This must be what most people go through, when they first meet someone and fall in love. They wait for the right moments to say words of dedication and commitment.

And when they do, it’s always a risk. One Noctis isn’t ready to think about.


	10. Chapter 10

Luna’s house stands ever-ominious before Noctis and Prompto, its double-shuttered windows battering against the side of the house in a breeze that Noctis is pretty sure wasn’t there five minutes ago. Eerie. Why must they always meet her here to do these tarot readings? Noctis doesn’t think the readings are even _helping_ , but maybe he’s just being cynical. Her powers eventually led him to Ignis; He should have more faith in finding Gladiolus, even if it feels like a façade to make Prompto feel better.

“I hate this place,” says Prompto, echoing Noctis’ thoughts perfectly as he fidgets with his camera. There’s a shrill excitement to his voice. They used to go into all manner of places back on the road trip in their last life time, and Prompto would take photos with daemons. The spooky house Luna lives in can’t scare him _that_ much.

Noctis has never been easy to scare, but some things are _not cool_. Luna’s house oozes an aura of cursedness. But if it really is like that, Luna hasn’t noticed.

Noctis rings the chime once more, but the door opens as soon as his finger leaves the button.

Luna grins at them. “Come on in.”

They cross the threshold from creepy yard to possessed house. The temperature drops another five degrees, and the wind picks up and bangs the shutters against the house in a rage. 

“I have a good feeling, Noctis,” she says as she leads them up the stairs to the attic where she keeps her cards. Her fingers trace over the necklace at her throat as she smiles at him. Today, she wears a lacy, light blue cardigan over her jean shorts and tank top. It is the most normal he has seen her in a while, though it seems a bit chilly to have broken out the spring fashion.

“What kind of good feeling?” asks Noctis, shivering despite wearing a coat. 

“For the reading.” 

“You think?” Prompto immediately brightens up and starts up the stairs two at a time in his increased anxiousness.

They settle around Luna’s table. Noctis never pays attention to what she’s doing. The cards confuse him, and they change meaning if they’re upside-down, so he always waits for her general assessment. Summaries are what always got him through literature class when he didn’t like the book enough to finish it to the end, after all.

Sleep sounds nice, and he hasn’t had much compared to what he used to—not with the dates, work, school, and a little volunteer work here and there. He misses sleep and video games. The beanbags aren’t the most comfortable place to lie down, but he steals one of Crowe’s many thick blankets and makes the best of it anyway. 

He wakes up to Prompto shaking him. Eyes still closed, he lifts his head and listens.

“I’m gonna see Gladiolus soon! The cards say my perseverance will pay off in a couple of weeks, can you believe it?”

That’s enough to get Noctis to join the living again. He blinks against the natural light coming in through the window and smiles.

“Finally,” he says. “We’ll have to chew him out for making us wait so long.”

Prompto deflates. “If he remembers us…”

“He will,” says Noctis with confidence. The fear has passed through his mind more than a few times, but Ignis’ erased memories feel like a punishment meant to torment Noctis specifically. He can think of more than a few reasons why the Astrals could be responsible and why—starting with Ignis’ defiance of Noctis’ fate as the Chosen King and ending with Noctis’ dismantling of the monarchy and heresy against the Six in his previous life.

Luna can sense something is on his mind; he can tell from the look she’s giving him.

“What concerns you, Noctis?”

“This whole thing…” Noctis gestures with his hands at a great big unknown, that according to the arches of his arms, is a misshapen circle. “I think the Astrals might be pissed off at me.”

“Oh.” Luna’s lip twitches.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

She shakes her head. “For someone to command the gods and use their power to bring back the light only to turn against them and stick up for humanity—your deeds are recorded in history books. I know as well as the rest of the world what you’ve done.”

Noctis lets out a long sigh as his head runs through several years of obnoxiously inaccurate history classes and all the arguments he has ever had with his teachers over the truth about King Noctis. The ultimate suffering: being the subject of your research papers and classroom lectures. 

“The Astrals needed to know we weren’t feeble, and that they’re not any better than the rest of us.”

“Yeah, but they’re the gods,” says Prompto, laughing. “It’s not like the rest of us have that kind of power. You had to borrow theirs.”

“And they wanted my life for it—after they were done taking everyone else’s.” The bitterness floods out, stored from places Noctis has kept a tight lid on. “Ignis gave everyone hope. He saw the future I was meant to have and defied it.”

“As I hoped he would,” adds Luna. “The Six are not happy with me, either, for using a messenger for selfish purposes.”

Noctis smiles at her, wishing he could reach over and kiss her forehead. “Thank you for that,” he says, settling on words that don’t express the full weight of his gratitude. “I’m glad you did it. Ignis used to tell me bits and pieces of what he saw, the things that never came to pass. I’m glad my friends stayed together, rather than worked apart. I’m glad Ignis kept his eyesight.”

Prompto pats Noctis on the back, hearty thumps that make Noctis happy to have him for a friend.

“So if the Astrals are punishing you and Ignis by taking away his memories, what did they do to Luna?” asks Prompto, giving their host a wary look.

Noctis hadn’t thought about that. She’s the catalyst for the change in their futures, which makes her equally as guilty in the eyes of the gods.

Luna falls silent as both men turn to her. Nothing is more telling than that.

“Luna…?”

“I’m not sure if this is true, but I feel as if I’ve lost a sense of purpose. I’m not unhappy, but I don’t know what to do with my life, other than be with the ones I love. I keep searching for answers in the cards, but…”

Noctis scoots closer and wraps an arm around her. Prompto goes around on the other side, and they sandwich her in a comforting embrace. The reaction causes her to giggle rather than cry, which makes it successful in Noctis’ book.

“What you went through—your sense of purpose from last time? That was bullshit.” No reason to sugarcoat what the gods have done; even more reason for humanity to turn their backs on the Six. “You shouldn’t have died. There should have been some other way than being groomed to die. You gave Ignis a chance to save me, but you never got to save yourself.”

“Maybe this life is the one that lets you live for yourself, to make up for that,” agrees Prompto.

“You two…” She leans her head against Noctis’ shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with spending time with the ones you love,” says Noctis. “You don’t have to be lonely anymore. Not like last time. Maybe your purpose is to love and be loved.”

“If only that felt like enough. Everyone works harder than I do to pay for this house and the bills. I don’t even cook so when everyone comes home, we can eat a meal together. We always eat things from Nyx and Libertus’ restaurant.”

Noctis doesn’t see an issue with that. Galahdian food every night? Seems a lot better than anything his parents can destroy on their stovetop or in their oven. 

“I’m sure they’re more than happy to cook for you. They do it for customers every day. I mean, have they ever complained?”

“No. Crowe teases me about it, but even she makes sure I want for nothing.”

“That’s your purpose,” says Prompto. “To make them happy by being here. You’ll find out what you want to do. There’s no rush. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“I’ll make damn sure of it, too, the way you did for me,” promises Noctis, meaning every word. If he had to hunt with his family and friends from one corner of Eos to the other, he will. He’ll even traverse the depths of Pitioss if it’ll help Luna.

“Thank you both.” She lifts her arms around them and pulls them closer to an embrace, her laughter conquering her sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a short chapters since I actually wrote a couple of chapters before this one... I haven't been feeling too well, so updates are a bit slow. I write a lot and then think it's pointless. yay.


	11. Chapter 11

Noctis could fall asleep in Ignis’ car. The passenger seat is comfortable, and the scent of Ignis’ subtle cologne is nearly as good as fresh sheets straight from the laundry in making him feel secure and relaxed. Ignis is ever the cautious driver. The warmth of the sun magnifies through the windows, warm against his shoulder. Perhaps it is spring at last—it took a while to arrive this year, but Noctis is grateful to set aside his coat. 

It turns out that no matter how much time Noctis wants to spend with Ignis, catnaps are irresistible. He wakes up from one only to realize their adventure for the day has almost ended and they have precious few minutes left before Ignis pulls into the drive and Noctis must leave him.

“Thanks for taking me to the reservoir,” says Noctis. “I hope it didn’t bore you too much.”

“Not at all. The weather was lovely.”

“Yeah.” Noctis leans his head back and glances out the window. Greenery has popped up everywhere in the last two weeks. He even had to help trim the bushes and pull weeds out of his parents’ tiny yard. The work didn’t take long because of the size. Insomnia’s compact architecture style remains; even in the suburbs where Noctis lives, few people even have a yard.

A lot of people are out today. Spring weather has drawn everyone outside, just as it beckoned him to the fishing docks at the reservoir. It seems no one wants to be left out. 

Not even Luna. He sees her from the back, but even without her raspberry coat, he recognizes her immediately.

“Can you pull the car over?” asks Noctis.

“Hmm? Of course.” 

Noctis rolls down the window as Ignis finds a gap between the cars and parks. 

“Luna! Hey, Luna!”

She turns, eyes wide and scanning for the direction of the voice. Noctis leans out the window as much as his seat belt will allow and waves his arm frantically. It takes her only a few seconds to backtrack to Ignis’ car.

“Hey.” He grins at her. “What brings you to this neighborhood?”

“Your father,” she answers.

His delight shrivels. Fuck the Six, she hadn’t been kidding about storming over to his house to confront Regis. Perhaps that’s the confrontation Regis needs, though.

“Can you give Luna a ride, too?” asks Noctis, turning to Ignis. “She’s headed to my house, so you won’t have to make another stop.”

Luna bends down and waves at Ignis. “You must be Ignis. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Yes, I believe I saw you the night I met Noctis.” Ignis nods his head at her. “If you would like a lift, you’re—”

Before he finishes, Luna already has the back door open and slides into the seat behind Noctis. Her hands curl around Noctis’ headrest as she leans in.

“Don’t warn your father ahead of time,” she says. “I want to catch him off-guard.”

“Do you see my phone out?” Noctis holds up his empty hands. “If I wanted to warn him, I wouldn’t have had Ignis pull over.”

“Seatbelt,” chides Ignis gently, glancing at Luna through the rearview window.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m not used to riding in cars.” Luna settles back into her seat and clips herself in place. 

“What has your father done, if I may pry?” asks Ignis, giving one curious look to Noctis before he concentrates on traffic and pulls away from the curb.

An uneasy feeling settles in Noctis’ stomach. It seemed like a good idea to invite Luna since they’re still a few blocks from his house and she’s headed the same direction, but now that she’s in the car with Ignis, he can’t help but worry something will slip.

Before he can formulate a reasonable excuse while avoid outing their shared history, Luna pipes up. “He’s supposed to meet with my parents. They’re old friends, but they had… Well, you could call it a falling out. My parents bear no grudge, but Ki—Regis seems to think they do.”

“I think he’s more worried about your brother,” mutters Noctis. While Ravus supported Noctis and even later befriended him, the animosity he held against Regis remained. It took far too long for Ravus to stop holding ill-will against Noctis for the sins of his father.

“So you two knew each other when you were children?”

“Yeah,” says Noctis. “Sort of. Not long.”

“We were penpals,” amends Luna. “We met once as children. I grew up in Tenebrae for a few years before my parents moved to Lucis.”

Noctis has to take a moment to think over whether anything they’ve said is strange. Perhaps the concern about Ravus should have gone unmentioned, since Ravus is only twelve. The apprehension coils around his stomach. 

“Anyway, Luna’s gonna give Dad a scolding and see that he meets with her parents,” says Noctis. “It’ll be fun to watch.”

“I am surprised I haven’t met your father,” says Ignis. “I live alone, so it makes sense you wouldn’t have met mine, but I’ve been to your house several times without bumping into either one of your parents. You always rush out the door as soon as I arrive—or you’re waiting on the porch.”

“Oh, right. You want to meet them sometime? Not now, but another time. Private matter between my family and Luna’s right now.” Noctis grimaces.

“Fair enough. And yes, I would like to meet them.”

Noctis supposes he should have played them up as an embarrassment, but he doesn’t want to be dishonest. He adores his parents. Anyone should be honored to meet them and lucky if theirs are just as wonderful. 

“Would you like to meet mine as well?”

“Yeah, uh, sure!” Noctis has been curious about them for ages. Ignis doesn’t talk about them much; their family seems distant. 

“I’ll have to get back with you on a date,” says Ignis, pulling into the Caelum’s drive. 

Ignis only gives Noctis a quick parting kiss on the lips before he leans back in his seat and waits for his passengers to leave.

“I’ll see you later,” says Noctis. 

“I look forward to it.” 

Noctis shuts the car door and looks up to see Luna beaming at him. Both of them wave at Ignis as he leaves.

“Other than his memory issue, everything is going smoothly, isn’t it?” she asks. “It has to be serious if you’re meeting each other’s parents.” Her face hardens. “Right. I need to speak with King Regis.” With her fists curled at her side, head held high, she makes her way to the front door. 

“Don’t be too hard on him.” Noctis hopes she doesn’t detect how insincere he must sound. As much as he sympathizes with his father, the only way to put the past behind him is to confront Sylva and Octavius. “But you can stop calling him a king. He’s a plain ol’ citizen now—just the way he likes it.”

“Oh, of course.” Luna’s face flushes pink.

“It might be best if he doesn’t meet Ravus right away. I mean, last time I saw Ravus, he still hadn’t forgiven my father. He learned to separate me from Dad, that’s all.”

“He does hold grudges,” says Luna, tapping the doorbell.

“I have a key.” Noctis fishes it out of his pocket. “Do you know if he’s still angry?”

“Mum’s working on it.”

Noctis edges his way in front of Luna and pushes his key in the lock. As soon as he opens the door, he can sense something is different. The living room shows signs of recent life—Regis’ favorite chair rocks slightly and there’s a circle of condensation leftover from a drink on the coaster.

“Dad’s definitely here,” says Noctis in a low voice. “Guess he must’ve gone into hiding. Probably the bathroom.” When one of Luna’s eyebrows quirks up, he snorts. “That’s where he hides when he’s in trouble with Mom. He used to do that when he was hiding from Clarus, too. Never works. Wait here.” 

Noctis nods toward the sofa before taking off down the hall. He taps a few times on the bathroom door and waits. When no answer comes, he tries the knob.

“I’m taking a shower, Noctis,” calls Regis from the other side. Water kicks on.

“Stop wasting water and get out here, Dad. Please? She’s not gonna leave until she talks to you.”

The showerhead shuts off, and a few seconds later, the knob jiggles before the door swings open to reveal a fully-dressed Regis. There is a can of root beer in his hand.

“I think I’ve got the flu, feeling awfully feverish—” 

“Dad.”

Regis sighs.

“Ravus used to refer to you as a coward, I guess I can see why.”

Regis bats him on the back of the head lightly. “Is that how you speak to your father?”

“I’m older than you by accumulated memories.” Noctis grins cheekily. Behind him, he hears footsteps, but he gets a front row view of the fear that flickers in Regis’ eyes before his father puts on his official kingly airs. Some habits don’t die with a previous lifetime.

“Luna…” Regis nudges his son out of the way to reach out for Luna’s hands. He clasps them in his and bows. “You look lovelier than ever.”

“It’s good to see you,” she agrees. “We have much to talk about.”

Regis leads her back to the living room. After fetching everyone something to drink, Noctis takes a seat beside Luna on the sofa. They sip lemonade and root beer together in silence as Noctis peers around. 

“Where’s Mom?” asks Noctis.

“Grocery shopping,” says Regis. “She intends to poison us tonight. Said something about practicing her cooking skills.”

“Oh no.”

Regis turns to Luna and sits up suddenly. Noctis turns to see what has alarmed her and sees tears trickling down Luna’s cheeks.

“Luna, you okay?!”

Her hands fly up to her head and she buries her face in her palms. “I’m sorry,” she sobs out between her wrists. “The last time I saw your father…”

Oh… Oh no. Fuck the six. Noctis didn’t think about that, didn’t consider her feelings at all. While he thought the whole confrontation would be hilarious, Luna had been steeling herself to see a man she last saw murdered. When Regis filled Noctis in on the gruesome details only a handful of years ago, Noctis had cried as well.

Regis kneels in front of Luna, scooping up her hands once again. He rubs the backs of them with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, Luna. I truly am.”

She sniffs. 

“Noct, get her a tissue.”

Noctis fetches the box from one of the end tables. Luna loosens one of her hands from Regis’ hold and takes three to pat down her face before she blows her nose.

“I had to run, had to keep going,” says Luna, her words laced with anger. “But now, I can feel what I want to feel. I don’t have to be strong. And I think it’s rotten that so many had to die.”

“Rotten?” repeats Regis. He takes a deep breath. “Yes, I think that’s a light way of putting it.”

“If that’s the case, why did I have to watch you die?” asks Noctis through a tightened throat. Tears well in his eyes as he remembers the way Luna bled against the wet Altissian cobblestones, using every bit of her last strength to save him. Someone who had yet to prove himself to anyone. How worthless and helpless he had been to help her. 

“That’s why I couldn’t let you join me,” says Luna. “Too many had to die. We didn’t get a chance to look for another way. The gods ordained it, and we were left to their whims like puppets. I played my part like a doll at the end. I let the Six manipulate me into thinking there was no other way.”

“We all did.” Noctis still hasn’t forgiven them. For as many lifetimes as he exists with retained memories, he never will. “Do you think they’re the ones who won’t give me back Ignis?”

“The Astrals have that kind of power. I can’t say for certain they’re behind this, and if so, why they’ve chosen for everyone else but Ignis to remember this time…”

If the Astrals are responsible for taking away Ignis’ memories, Noctis will do more than his petty defiance of refraining from worship and showing the people to make their own paths in life. He faced them once. For Ignis’ sake, he’ll do it again.

Regis’ chair squeaks as he rocks it back and forth slowly. “Noctis, I have no memory of any lives before that as King Regis. But you’ve been with Ignis so many times… Tell me. Does it hurt more each time you’re ripped apart by death?”

Noctis curls into himself. The pain is unfathomable. There are no words for it—like having body and soul shattered. Rebirth is like the pieces slowly patching together, but it is never complete until Ignis is with him again. They have always savored there time together, yet death hangs as an ever-present threat. Their only comfort is knowing that they have always found one another.

“I thought so,” says Regis. “Does it hurt worse than him not knowing?”

“No, this is worse. I don’t want to think about forgetting him, either. That wouldn’t make it better for me…” 

Luna scoots across the few inches of cushion between them to put her arm around Noctis’ shoulders. She presses her cheek against his and sighs.

“We’ll do what we want with this lifetime,” says Luna. “And if the gods don’t like it, they can face me.”

“If that’s the case,” begins Regis, “then I should do my part to meet your parents with equal bravery.”

“Good,” says Luna. “You’re invited to dinner next week. I’ll text Noctis the exact day and time once I’ve sorted it out with my parents.”

Regis doesn’t look completely thrilled by this arrangement, but he nods his head and returns to his chair. After gulping down the rest of his root beer, he points to one of the game systems.

“Anyone care to challenge me to a race?” he asks.

“Winner gets to pick whatever takeout place we’ll eat at tonight?” They’ll need a backup plan with Aulea’s experimentation.

“I intend to win.” Luna snatches up the first wheel-shaped controller and grins at both men with determination that makes Noctis understand a bit why Regis is so cowed by her.


	12. Chapter 12

Noctis opens the door to Prompto and someone else—a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black tank top. Sweat trickles across the inked feathers of his bird tattoo. Before Noctis has time to say the second person’s name, he is swept into a crushing bear hug.

He forgot how good Gladiolus’ hugs can feel. They’re as good as Aulea’s—all the love and promise of protection in one sweet moment. Noctis doesn’t even mind that Gladiolus smells like a man fresh from the gym.

His former shield is sobbing as they pull apart. Gladiolus lifts his head high and gives a great big sniff, swiping at his eyes. There isn’t a person there who isn’t crying—Noctis glances over at Prompto to smile at him, noting the redness of his face and the dampness of his eyelashes. 

“How? When?” Noctis can’t get many words out in his excitement as he pulls Gladiolus by the arm further into the house. Prompto shuts the door behind them. 

All of them gather around the table with glasses of ice water. Noctis taps at his in the silence that follows. A few times, Prompto opens his mouth, takes in a deep breath, and shuts it again. But they’re all grinning. That’s what matters.

“Gym,” says Prompto, after some time. “Guess it was worth it, having like five memberships at a time. I tried a new place last week. Went back today, and there he was, lifting weights. Nearly dropped one when he saw me.”

“Must’ve been a sight.”

“I had the better view,” says Gladiolus. “I couldn’t believe it. I’ve been looking for all of you! What about Ignis? Have you found him yet?”

“Yeah,” says Noctis. “But it’s not the same. He doesn’t remember anything.”

Gladiolus frowns. “That doesn’t make sense. We recognized each other.”

“Yeah, well, at least we know where he is now. I’m dating him, but he thinks it’s a coincidence we have the same names as the last king and his husband.” Noctis gulps down his water and gets up to retrieve a soda instead. “What about Iris? Your parents?”

“They’ve been searching for you, too,” says Gladiolus.

“How are they?”

Gladiolus leans back in his seat and accepts a can of cola when offered. “We’re the same, minus the titles. We live quiet lives—for Amicitias.” 

“Rowdy, then.”

Gladiolus grins and downs half his soda in a minute. 

The three of them catch up on details about their families. Clarus works in the military, alongside his wife, Thalia. It turns out Iris is twenty-five and teaches martial arts. Noctis doesn’t look forward to a reunion where someone he viewed as a younger sister is now the older one. Is this his punishment for teasing Cor so much?

“She wasn’t born but three years after me,” says Gladiolus. “No one expected my mom to get pregnant so soon, but we figured Iris was coming eventually. But at least she remembered as she got older, just like us.”

“Ravus is younger than Luna, and Cor’s eight,” says Prompto. 

The wrong words to say while Gladiolus is mid-sip through his soda. He spits out some across the table. “Cor’s _what_?” 

“He should be home,” says Noctis. It’s a weekend, and Cor almost never leaves the house except when Regis or Aulea drags him out or sends him off to school. “Be back in a sec.”

Noctis hears light music playing on the other side of Cor’s door. To be heard over it, he knocks hard with his fist.

“Hey, Cor, Gladio’s here.”

Silence. The music continues, but a few seconds later, Noctis hears the click of the bedroom lock. 

“Cor, Mom says you can’t just lock us out when you feel like it.” Besides, there is a key. If only Noctis could remember where Aulea put it… “It’s there for privacy!”

“And I need privacy,” grumbles the sour voice on the other side of the door.

“C’mon, he already knows you’re a pipsqueak!”

“Aulea said not to talk about me in that manner, Noctis.” Great, the miniature adult is scolding him. 

“I won’t tell her you locked me out if you don’t tell her I said that?” 

A laugh echoes on the other side of the door. “How did you like that musical marathon she subjected you to the other day?”

“Still can’t get the chocobo theme out of my head.” Miniature asshole. Now Noctis will be whistling it the rest of the day. “Maybe I’ll sit out here and hum it until you come out.”

The door unlatches and opens, just enough for Cor to poke his smug face out through the gap. “That won’t get it out of your head.”

“Just come see Gladio,” snaps Noctis sulkily, crossing his arms. “Prompto’s here, too. Besides, you want to hear about Clarus, right?” 

Noctis slips his foot in the way before Cor can slam the door shut. It hurts fiercely, but at least Cor won’t be able to lock him out. There are some benefits to being an adult while Cor is stuck as a child, like being over double his size. 

“Clarus is going to find out you’re a kid eventually. Might as well tell him sooner than later.” Noctis only feels marginally sympathetic. “He never treated me like an adult. I was always Dad’s son. At least you’re Cor.”

“Being twenty years younger, he always treated me like a kid, too,” says Cor. “Now it’ll be even worse.”

“Guess we’ll have to put up with it together, then.” Noctis snags Cor’s hand through the open slit of door, finishes kicking it all the way open with the foot that kept it from closing, and tugs his “brother” into the hallway.

“Let go of me!” 

From the kitchen, Gladiolus laughs. “I can hear him, Noct! Is that seriously Cor?”

Before Noctis has a chance to finish dragging Cor into the kitchen, Gladiolus steps out and glances at the former marshal. His eyes narrow after being blown wide from the shock. 

“He looks the same, just _smaller_.”

Cor wears a black knitted sweater and jeans, his feet tucked in charcoal slippers. With his hair short and the frown on his face, it is uncanny how much he looks like his adult self. How could Noctis fail to recognize him the day he knelt before Regis in the subway station? 

“My mom says we have to treat him with the same respect as we did before.” 

“No,” says Cor. “ _You_ do. Gladio can treat me however he likes.”

“You think my mom is going to let Gladio get away with that?” Noctis snorts and glances up at Gladiolus. “Once she has you, your hers for life. She’s everyone’s mom. Didn’t need one? Too bad, you have another.”

“Hey, wait.” Gladiolus smooths his bangs back with a palm. “You mean your mom is here? That’s great!” He hurries back to the kitchen, his borrowed slippers slapping against the tiles. “Hey, Prompto, what about your parents?”

As everyone gathers in the kitchen again, passing out another round of sodas, Prompto explains his own situation. 

“Not the same parents who adopted me in Lucis.” There’s a soft hiss of expelled air as he snaps open his can of cola. “And don’t worry, my dad isn’t _that_ guy. I got new parents this time around. They’re awesome.”

“And rich,” adds Noctis.

“I don’t recognize them from before, so I don’t know if they’re reincarnated. Probably not. I don’t mind. When they found out I was having weird dreams and memories, they were supportive. They don’t know the truth, but I think if they did, they wouldn’t think it was weird or anything.”

“What about Iggy’s parents? His uncle?” asks Gladiolus.

“Don’t know. I’m not sure Ignis is close to his parents. He doesn’t talk about them much, and when he does…” _There’s a strain in his voice, as if he doesn’t want to mention them._ But what about wanting Noctis to meet them? They can’t be that bad, if Ignis wants to introduce his boyfriend to them.

“Yeah?”

“I should ask him more about them. That wouldn’t be weird, would it? I can never tell if I’m asking too much or not enough, and I have to be careful I don’t give away this rebirth stuff…”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” A large hand falls on Noctis’ back and rubs soothing circles around his shoulders. “I…can’t imagine how tough that’s gotta be. Doesn’t make sense why Iggy doesn’t remember.”

“We’ve got theories that it might be some sort of divine punishment.”

“Oh, for that shit you pulled when you defied the Astrals and then told mankind to turn their backs on the gods and live for themselves?” Gladiolus grunted. “Guess that might’ve put you on their shit list. Still doesn’t make it right. They couldn’t take away your life back then, so they’re asking for pieces of it now?”

“It might be something like that.” It occurs to Noctis that he has never told Gladiolus about his intertwining fate with Ignis that stretches long before his time as the Chosen King. Only a handful of people know now, and Regis is one of the few people who tried to explain to Noctis in his previous life that it couldn’t have been possible. _Guess who had to apologize for that with many trips to the ice cream parlor,_ thinks Noctis smugly. A little hard for Regis to discredit him when he has also experienced reincarnation with retained memories.

“Pisses me off, if the Astrals did that to Ignis,” says Gladiolus. One of his fists smacks against the table—not hard, but enough to make the other four people jump. 

“Gladio, please,” scolds Cor, which makes all of them turn their heads at him and laugh. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m still your elder.”

Noctis groans. Will no one ever listen to him? “Wait a minute here. I’m the oldest, if we go by memories.” 

“I wonder how your parents feel about that?” Cor’s smile is downright chilling. How can he be so much like an annoying younger brother, for someone who claims to be an adult? 

“Not fans of it, but only when I try to use it against them. I don’t think you count.”

“Anyway,” Gladiolus begins, “that’s not the issue here. We have to figure out what’s going on with Ignis.”

“Well, good luck with that.” Noctis folds his arms on the table in front of him and dives face-first into them. “At least I’m dating him. He cares about me. That’s something.” It is all he can have, and if the Astrals are behind it, well. Damn them. Which might not be a wise attitude to hold if it’s the same one that got them all here in the first place.

Gladiolus rubs his shoulders a little more. Things are getting better. Knowing where one another is at, and that they’re safe and healthy, is something. 

But the Ignis from previous lives wouldn’t have been content with that. He would want his memories intact, preserving each special one. The strain it is causing Noctis would also make it unbearable for Ignis, too. When the missing details return—if they ever do—then Ignis will realize how much Noctis has been through. While he shouldn’t feel guilty, he will. 

Perhaps it would be better if Noctis never told him about their past lives. Ignis’ happiness is as important as his own. In some pessimistic establishment of his mind, however, Noctis fears that they’ll never quite be the same or that he’ll manage to misstep somewhere along the way. And losing Ignis would devastate him. It would be unacceptable as two people who will always be intertwined in their destinies, their stories (badly) written in the tomes of history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Gladio!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a few months since I updated this story, but... I almost have the rest of this story drafted? :D

Regis is more willing to meet with Clarus and his wife than he is with Luna’s family. The Amicitias are invited over before Regis even has a date for visiting the Fleuret home. The dinner is scheduled during a Friday night, forcing Noctis to choose between canceling with Ignis or having him join. There’s no doubt they’ll all be discussing reincarnation, so Noctis reschedules for an early breakfast date the next morning.

“Will you be up that early?” asks Ignis, his brief laugh creating static over the line.

“Mom will get me up.”

“Don’t you have an alarm clock?”

“That has a snooze button. My mom has surround sound with the chocobo theme at the click of a button. It’s especially useful with Cor when he doesn’t want to listen to her, but she’s been using it on me lately.”

It takes Ignis a few minutes to calm from his fit of laughter, and Noctis scowls on his end.

“It was a lot easier when she’d steal my blankets.”

“Your mother has some interesting parenting tactics, especially when she continues to use them on you at your age.”

“Yeah, uh, don’t bring up age with her. I could be six thousand years old and still have to kiss her goodnight and do my homework on time as long as I’m living here.”

“Will she even allow you move out?”

There is a long pause that follows while Noctis considers this. Moving into a dormitory for university never once crossed his mind. Like his time with Ignis, every moment with his parents is precious. What if this is the last life he sees them? What if he is never reborn again? The cycle might someday end, or he might stop having memories from his past lives. After what happened last time, Noctis is determined to make the most with his freedom in choices—his career, his living space, his loved ones, his future.

But if he ever did have the money and desire to move to a dorm, Noctis suspects Regis and Aulea would both object. 

“I don’t think I’m going to test that,” says Noctis with a dismissive laugh. “My parents would either beg or threaten me to stay until I’m thirty.”

“ _Only_ until you’re thirty?” 

“Yeah, and when I hit forty, they’ll move in with me so I can take care of them.” Noctis isn’t sure whether he is saying it because his parents would insist, or if he’s saying it because that is what he would want. It might be both. 

“You seem quite fond of them. I’m glad.”

“What about your parents?” It might be a bad time to ask when they’re not face-to-face, but Noctis blurts out the words before he thinks them over. 

The pause that follows makes Noctis curl up on his bed and hug one of his large pillows against his chest. 

“We get along,” says Ignis, and the strain in his voice whenever they’re brought up returns. “We have a complicated relationship.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right. It’s natural you would be curious about them.”

The awkwardness that stretches makes Noctis want to yank his blinds closed and take a nap, but he can hear his parents in the kitchen, making calls and ordering enough food to feed a battalion. It won’t be long before the house is noisy with life, and Noctis doesn’t want to miss visiting with the Amicitia family. Not that Gladiolus or Iris would allow him to doze through it. 

“I’m gonna miss you tonight,” says Noctis after a minute.

“There is always tomorrow,” says Ignis. “I hope you have a good night, Noct.”

“I will.”

When they hang up, Noctis flips over onto his back and sets his phone against his chest. A part of him wishes he could have invited him over. How can he ask his parents and the Amicitia family to pretend they’ve never met Ignis before and expect no one to slip? Even Noctis has trouble keeping track of it all. 

Noctis has been telling lies, too—small ones, but he can’t keep up with them. Someday, he’ll mess up, and what will he say then? The truth would be nice, but it’s impossible to tell when Ignis will be ready for it.

Tonight will be a good distraction, if he can motivate himself out of bed. Not that it takes long before Aulea is calling for him to set the table and vacuum the living room one last time before their guests arrive. Bless her for knowing he needs something to keep him busy before he lets anxiety bury him under a pile of blankets for a week.

~*~

Dinner is fried cockatrice and various side dishes, including spicy noodles and seasoned vegetables. Noctis isn’t sure he can eat—it’s a miracle he’s still alive after all the bone-crushing hugs he has endured. Iris and Aulea flank him, taking advantage of the spare space on his plate to slop vegetables onto it. When his mom throws him one of her “eat like an adult in front of our guests or I will hum the chocobo theme at any given moment” looks, he scoops up a spoonful and chews between his tears.

Cor is worse off, seated between Clarus and Regis. His plate remains untouched, a single cockatrice steak sitting there where Regis dropped it earlier. Over the past few minutes, while everyone discusses their careers, his body slips further off his chair and under the table. Aulea makes eye contact and hums the first three notes of her favorite torture device. After that, Cor sits up straight and attempts to take a bite of his meal.

“How many others have you found?” asks Clarus as he dishes up a second helping. “We’ve been hoping to find Jared and his family.”

“Weskham is still missing,” says Regis. “Cid is out by Hammerhead.”

“I _looked_ in Hammerhead.”

“So did we, but it appears he lives in some suburb of it. We only found him after Noctis found Luna, who knows Cindy. After that, we drove out there to meet him.”

Noctis has never been to Hammerhead, but he’s heard it is far more than a service station now. The town expanded over a great portion of Leide and swallowed up other settlements. It doesn’t reach the size of Insomnia, but it has its own downtown area, and the location that was once a hub for hunters now serves as one of the many suburbs where Cid has settled down with his wife. Their son lives downtown, and Cindy runs her own service station just outside Insomnia. 

“Yes, Hammerhead did get…big. I was a bit surprised when Thalia and I went there the first time, looking for Cid. We must’ve tried every service station in the city.”

“He doesn’t work at a service station,” says Regis. “He works with an airplane company, designing commercial planes. His daughter recently opened her own place. If you went looking now, you would find her immediately.”

“The transportation industry is in good hands, then,” says Gladiolus cheerfully. “Hey, what about Aranea? Dustin? Monica?”

“Haven’t seen them,” admits Noctis. He’s a little ashamed to admit that he didn’t actively look—if he spotted one of those names during his searches, he investigated, but he let others become priority. “Guess we’d better start looking.”

“I’m grateful we were able to reunite, Regis,” says Thalia, reaching for another cockatrice breast. She is a mystery to Noctis, who rarely ever saw her in his previous life. She wears a beautiful black evening gown and looks like she stepped out of a magazine centerfold advertising million-gil dresses and purses, but her looks are deceiving. She has always known her way around weapons. Her martial arts abilities allow her to exist as an even greater threat. 

“It took a while, but we’re here,” says Regis, reaching over and clasping Cor’s hand. To Noctis’ surprise, Cor doesn’t pull away. Maybe it’s because his dad is being sincere—for once.

“Just need a few more people, and we’re set,” agrees Gladiolus, piling a bunch of wings onto his plate. It is a good thing Noctis’ parents thought to order a lot of food. They’ll still end up with leftovers, but the Amicitia family eats a lot. Even Noctis starts chowing down as they all settle into a comfortable environment around the table.

After dinner and dessert—a cake Aulea ordered from a bakery after her attempt to make her own turned out soupy (and cakes are never supposed to be soupy after they’re baked, so Noctis is at a loss as to how she managed that)—Noctis shows Gladiolus and Iris to his room. 

“Unexpectedly clean,” says Iris, flipping up the comforter to get a view of under the bed. “You don’t even have trash in here.”

“Have you seen my mother? Do you think she would allow me to invite cockroaches in her house?” Noctis flops down in his computer chair. “Anyway, you’re not supposed to be older than me.”

Iris grins and pats his head teasingly. “Same age difference as you and Gladdy the first time! But I still can’t believe that’s Cor! He looks exactly the same, only smaller.” She pirouettes to face her brother, hands clasped behind her back. “You were right on the mark!”

“Still can’t get over the marshal. I used to look up to him.”

“Now you get to look down,” says Noctis cheerfully. He peers around toward the door. “Hope he didn’t hear me. He’s been tattling to my mother every time I do that.”

Gladiolus flops down onto the bed and begins toying with Balloon, flipping the night light on and off. “Sounds like you’re getting used to having a little brother.”

“If he’s my brother, he could stop telling my mom everything I do.”

“Sounds exactly like a little sibling,” pipes up Iris, stealing the remainder of Noctis’ bed. “I used to do that to Gladdy.”

“‘Used to’?”

Iris refrains from commenting and instead turns to Noctis’ game system in the corner, his television on a wall mount. “How about we play some games?”

“Sure,” says Noctis, getting up to hunt down his controllers and pass them out. “Loser has to take the winner to lunch.”

“What about the person who doesn’t lose or win?” asks Iris, accepting one of the controllers as Noctis passes it to her.

“Guess the loser pays for them, too,” says Noctis.

Gladiolus sits up. “Oh, you’re _on_.”

~*~

Later that night, after several battles that eventually include taking on Clarus, Aulea, and Cor, the Amicitia family goes home. The winner is Aulea and the biggest loser Clarus, and so the families both agree that the Amicitas can treat the Caelums to dinner next time.

Noctis helps his mother clean up the table before retreating to his room to text Ignis. It’s a short message: _I missed you. Goodnight._

The reply is instant. _I missed you more, Noct. See you tomorrow._

Noctis smiles and falls asleep with his phone resting on the pillow beside him.


	14. Chapter 14

Noctis gets up with his alarm—no help from Aulea necessary—and meets Ignis at a coffeeshop halfway between their places. The subway only has a few quiet passengers on their way to work, but despite the easy traffic, Ignis arrives first. 

Before Noctis is able to plop down into the chair across Ignis, he hears a familiar woman’s voice call out his name and turns to the source. 

Seated in a booth a few feet away, Luna has her cards stacked on the table and ready for a reading. A cup of tea sits beside them, already half-finished. She waves at Noctis.

“Oh, it appears to be your friend Luna,” says Ignis. “I didn’t recognize her earlier—she was turned away from me while she gave an elderly woman a tarot reading. Would she like to join us?”

“If we invite her, we’ll have to treat her,” says Noctis, waving back at her. “She can’t afford a thing.” _Except a cup of tea every hour to avoid looking like a loiterer._

“I don’t mind,” says Ignis. “I’ll treat you both.”

It isn’t the same as a breakfast date when there’s a third person along, but Noctis is ultimately a nice person who doesn’t feel like rejecting Ignis’ kindness or Luna’s company.

“Be right back,” says Noctis, and Ignis smiles in a way that is reward enough for the sacrifice. He taps Luna on the shoulder as she’s polishing off her tea. 

“Would you like to join us?” asks Noctis. 

“And interrupt your date? No, I just wanted to say hello!” Luna winks at him. 

“It was Ignis’ suggestion. He says he’ll treat us both to breakfast.”

“I should really focus on getting more customers right now,” says Luna, handwaving away the suggestion. “But he’s free to buy me a tea refill, if he wants. I like the ulwaat berry herbal, extra sugar.”

“Can I hug you?” asks Noctis, who wants to buy her more than a tea as thanks for turning down their invitation. 

Luna reaches out her arms, and he scoops her into an embrace. She pats him on the back before she slips away.

“Just one favor, Noctis?” There’s a dangerous hum in Luna’s voice, something that reminds Noctis of his mother when she’s being sweet right before she delivers a threat. “Remind your father to email my mother back.”

“Ah, that’s all? Sure. I’ll have Mom on the case if he doesn’t listen to me.”

“Thank you, Noctis.”

Luna turns back to her cards, and Noctis makes eye contact with Ignis before nodding him toward the queue at the front of the diner. They both join in line at the same time.

“She needs the customers right now, but she says you can buy her a tea—ulwaat berry with extra sugar. I’m gonna surprise her with a muffin, too.” 

“That’s very sweet of you.” 

Ignis leans down and kisses him on the cheek, and Noctis almost lifts off the ground to his tiptoes in delight. Instead, Noctis stuffs his hands in his pockets and studies the menu intensely until half the words are blurring. His face is warm. Some people are worth getting up early in the morning for—not that Noctis plans to do it too often.

~*~

Noctis has to work a late shift that afternoon, so he returns home to get a nap and do a little homework. He pops his head into his parents’ bedroom to find his father, who is seated at the desk in the corner with his laptop. 

“Dad?” Noctis perches on the edge of his parents’ bed.

“Yes, my son?” There are times Noctis can’t tell if his father doesn’t know how to break speech habits from his previous life or if he’s simply making fun of him. This time, he suspects it’s the latter.

“Luna says she wants you to email her mom back.”

“I haven’t opened my email yet. I’m quite busy, as you can see…” Regis tries to turn his laptop away, but Noctis sees the card game on the screen before it is out of sight. 

“Real busy. Yup. Guess I’ll let Mom know.” Noctis pretends to stand to make a proper show of it. Regis swerves his chair around and gestures wildly for Noctis to sit back down.

“Fine! I’ll open it.” 

After readjusting his laptop and chair, Regis lets out an exaggerated huff and mumbles something under his breath about offspring and betrayal. The card game is closed, and the email client pulled up and logged into. From his spot, Noctis can spot the fresh email. It lies well beneath several read ones. The date shows it sent two days previously.

“Dad, you never would have shirked your duties like this as king.”

“I’m not king now, am I?” 

“Doesn’t mean you get to be lazy.”

“Are you allowed to take that tone of voice with me?” Regis’ lips twitch in the corner in a badly suppressed smile. “I’m going to read it, isn’t that enough for you?”

Noctis raises an eyebrow even though his father can’t see him. After some hesitation, Regis finally clicks on the email. It’s at too far a distance—and the print too light—for Noctis to make out the content. Noctis watches his father’s facial expressions instead. Regis starts off with worry in his eyes, but as he reads on, his shoulders begin to relax, and he settles against the back of his chair with a kind smile on his face.

“Ever benevolent, this one,” says Regis. “I shall have to give her a call and set up a meeting between our families soon.”

“What did the email say?” Noctis isn’t sure he wants to know the content of the message—a nosy part of him cares, but another part of him dreads it as much as his father. “Was she nice? Did she promise she got rid of Ravus’ guillotine?” 

“Noctis, why do you torment me?”

Noctis grins. “’Cos it’s fun, and ‘cos I take after Mom.”

Regis narrows his eyes and leans over for a pillow—no doubt as ammunition to throw at his son. Noctis reaches it first and bats it far out of the way. 

“What did she say, Dad?”

Regis settles back into his chair. “She said our past lives were full of war and complication. We are different people now—ones who’ve been given a fresh start after all our fighting and sacrifices. For whatever reason, some of us have been gifted with previous memories. Sylva feels this should be used as a way to build good relations rather than create more rifts between us.”

Even Noctis has to pause and let all that sink in. He doesn’t remember much about Sylva—his encounters with her as a prince were brief. He spent much of his time in her company confined to a wheelchair, feverous and temperamental. No doubt he must have been on her mind more than she crossed his thoughts in return. While she focused on healing him, she had other duties, and Noctis spent most of his time in Tenebrae in Luna’s company. That was especially true when he started to get better. Sylva likely had to put aside many matters to help Noctis, but once he started to recover, she had to return to them. 

He always imagined her to have strong leadership skills while remaining thoughtful of other people. Someone who could reassure the people and offer them solace while delivering a stern warning about the difficult times they faced ahead. Not someone unlike his father had been as king.

“I owe her a great deal of gratitude for what she did for you as a child,” says Regis. “Even if I said I was doing it for the sake of the world, I was a selfish man.”

They don’t often drift onto this topic, and Noctis hopes they’ll change subjects soon.

“I owe Ignis even more, but I guess it might be a long time before I can ever thank him,” says Regis. “While we’re bringing up dinners and meeting up with old friends, why haven’t you introduced us?”

“I’ve told him you’re all crazy and my foster brother can make explosives out of accessible household items.” Noctis has said none of these things to Ignis, but he _has_ implied them. 

Regis frowns. “But he doesn’t. Does he?”

“Not yet, but he _can_.” 

“None of us are crazy.”

“I beg to differ. Mom hums music as a threat. No one does that. No one torments their kids with catchy musical numbers!”

“All right, your mother might be a little dangerous. I’ll allow you that. But I’m not crazy.” Regis sits up in his chair, back straight, as if he’s trying to maintain his old kingly aura. 

Instead of giving his father an answer, Noctis slips off the bed.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I got up early! Time to take a nap before work.” Noctis waves to his dad and grins as he hears the protests and average parental grumbling all the way down the hall. His family might be a _little_ crazy, but they’re more normal than they’ve ever been, and he loves them dearly.

Best of all, he has successfully gotten out of planning a meeting between his parents and Ignis. There’s no telling how long he can delay it. Once his mother starts asking, there will be no sidetracking her with accusations of craziness. Partially because she’ll figure out the con, and secondly, Noctis would like to live longer than he did in his last life, thank you very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noct. _Noct._ You poor boy. 
> 
> There are so many dinners coming up, and I just recently posted the Amicitia one. There are three more. Everyone is having dinner. WHY IS EVERYONE HAVING DINNER? WHY? WHY MUST IT ALL BE IN THE SAME PART OF THE FIC?! 
> 
> ...Okay, but the dinner with Ignis' parents is important. But it's...gonna be a while.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...am not pleased with this chapter. Ravus is hard to write, and he's even harder as a twelve-year-old. :')
> 
> But I'm going to see about posting another chapter directly after this to make up for it. That said? Boy am I sick of dinner parties, there are more coming up. Everyone wants to meet over food! It makes sense, sure, but like...they're eating. I'm the one who has to write. So I'm gonna be grumpy. :')

_Regis finally agreed to dinner with my family! How’d you do it?_

Luna is the first one to break the news to Noctis. He leans over the counter while he waits for one of the last people in the shop to finish choosing books and types a reply to her.

_When?_

Noctis doesn’t get an answer before the last patron finally sets his armful of books onto the countertop. After the transaction, Noctis checks his watch. Less than a minute to close. He locks the store doors and does a thorough stroll of the shop, checking every aisle and calling into the bathrooms to make sure he hasn’t missed anyone. Once he’s done, he pulls out his phone.

_Thursday evening at my parents’ home!_

Oh, that’s a good time. Noctis’ parents likely worked in his free evenings from work, and Friday has already been reserved for an outing with Ignis. 

_See you Thurs!_

Noctis pockets his phone and sets to work counting out the till in the back with his boss. It’s a helpful distraction from the anxiety creeping in on him. Meeting Ravus will be all right, but Sylva and Octavius are strangers to him. Worst of all, they’ll be on Fleuret home territory, rather than their own.

Hopefully Luna’s parents are better cooks than Aulea and Regis. 

~*~

When Thursday finally arrives, Noctis spends his afternoon with Luna before going to her house separately from his parents. They take the subway to the western section of town. Beyond the old crumbling walls of Insomnia—left there more as a reminder of their historic past than to keep anything or anyone out—is a giant suburban area with shops and homes. Luna’s parents live in a small two-story home. 

Twelve-year-old Ravus sits inside the screened porch, waiting for them. He’s sharply dressed for his age in gray jeans and a white dress shirt. In his lap is a book.

“Good afternoon,” he says, and he sounds nothing like anyone else his age—or older, for the matter. 

Ravus evaluates Noctis carefully before he closes his book and stands. He holds out one hand.

“Let’s agree not to make fun of this situation,” says Ravus sternly. 

Noctis decides to shake on it. As a peace offering, he gives Ravus a tidbit of information. “Cor’s younger than you are.”

Ravus’ eyes shine dangerously. “You don’t say?”

When Noctis was king, Ravus and Cor forged an unusual relationship—something between friends and rivals. During the last few years before Noctis and Ignis died, Cor made several trips to Tenebrae with refugees, returning them to the homes Ravus and his people had worked diligently to restore. The two bonded and fought over their opinions toward Regis. While Cor had never hesitated to criticize and question Regis sometimes, his respect for him never wavered. But Ravus only ever forgave Noctis for his father’s error. Ravus took his hatred for Regis to his grave.

“Are you going to kill my dad while he’s here? ‘Cos that might not go over so well.” 

Ravus laughs in a way that is the opposite of reassuring. He doesn’t even glance at the hand Noctis offers him. They’ve already made one agreement; trying for another might be pushing it.

“Mother says you promised to be polite,” says Luna. 

“Have you ever been able to refuse our mother?” 

Luna lets out a soft, worried laugh.

“Let’s go in and have Noctis meet her,” says Ravus, leading the way into the home.

Luna does not have her mother’s taste. The house is minimally decorated with light blue and white furniture, and if there’s a speck of dirt somewhere, it must be cowering in fear from the housekeeper’s cleaners. The living room doesn’t have a television set, and the formal dining room has only a vase with sylleblossoms on the table’s glass surface. A narrow staircase leads upstairs. Everything is carpeted. Noctis steps onto it in house slippers that are fluffy and soft, the color of clouds. 

“Father?” calls out Luna, tugging Noctis by the hand through the dining room and into the kitchen. 

Octavius died before Noctis could ever meet him. He stands in a kitchen so white it is blinding and pats seasonings on a large cut of garula while the oven preheats behind him. His dark blond hair is beginning to silver. He wears it shorter than Ravus used to, but other than the lack of beard, he mildly resembles what his son looked like as an adult.

Octavius smiles cheerfully up at them. “Welcome! Luna, darling, glad to see you home.”

There’s something warm and cheerful about Luna’s dad. He blows her a kiss and hums pleasantly as he finishes preparing the garula. He sways his hips around the room to the beat of his music, and once the meat is in the oven, he hurries to sweep his daughter into a hug and ruffle his son’s hair.

Ravus takes to the physical affection better than Cor. He grins up at his father, and Noctis feels a familiar pang of longing. Regis might be alive now, but he remembers a time when he wasn’t. For Ravus, having both parents again must be everything to him. Maybe enough that he won’t murder his sworn enemy across the dining table. Honestly, who would dare? If Aulea had a house this spotless and someone started spilling blood on her carpet, that child would need more than an army and the distance of an ocean to keep them safe. Fortunately for Noctis, his parents bought a house that was already battered and stained by previous owners. Every new contribution is swallowed into the ones from the past, and no one can be directly blamed for any extras added in the past twenty-five years.

“Why don’t we all sit down in the living room?” suggests Octavius, herding them back through the dining room and across the hall. 

Ravus, Noctis, and Luna take the sofa, and Octavius takes one of the chairs. 

“Where’s Mother?” asks Luna.

“She’s doing her hair. I’m sure she’ll be down soon.” Octavius glances at the stairwell. “She had it cut short the other day.”

“I can’t wait to see it!”

Octavius turns to Noctis. “And you… King Noctis. It feels odd to say it. I’m not really seeing the likeness from all the old photos in history books, though. Sylva warned me you’d be different in person. Younger, for one. And being in the Crystal must’ve accelerated your aging.”

“You have no idea.” If there’s one bit of memory Noctis is glad to have fuzzy, it is his ten years inside the Crystal. 

“Sylva remembers what you looked like as a little boy.” Octavius holds up a flat hand about three feet from the carpet, as if trying to estimate the size of an eight-year-old Prince Noctis. “I guess not a lot of pictures from when you were younger survived…”

“Yeah, guess not.” A lot of Prompto’s were never recovered, for some reason, and most pictures circulating in history books were snaps taken by the press in Noctis’ later years. Prompto has since speculated that since most of the photographs were saved digitally, his cards might’ve gotten lost and later damaged. Something like that would have been helpful evidence for Noctis to use for the day he finally talks to Ignis about their history together. And his life in school might’ve been made easier if everyone could see the likeness.

Instead, all they have are copies of copies—which have mutilated some of the quality of the photos—and sketches of King Noctis and his husband. 

“There’s even less of Luna out there,” says Octavius. “All we have are famous paintings, and none of them capture my daughter at all!”

“I think some of them are quite flattering,” argues Luna with a smile.

“You’re much prettier than all those Lunas.”

“I agree with your dad,” says Noctis quickly. “I’ve seen those pictures. Very few of them come close to suiting you.”

“I think the artistic expression that went into them makes them all beautiful.” Luna sets both her hands over her heart. “And there are a couple of statues, too—well, one is a bust, but I’ll take it.”

“I have busts,” says Noctis. “They’re awful, and they emphasized all the old parts of me.” Meanwhile, not a single one could ever capture Ignis’ beauty—the curviness of his lips, his soft kindness when he smiles, the flow of his hair. All those things that Noctis still can’t believe are real, even a few dozen lifetimes later.

“My bust is a little too flattering.” Luna rests her fingers over her breasts.

“I have one,” says Sylva from the doorway. She wears a flowing tunic with slacks, and she looks no less regal than Noctis remembers from his fuzzy memory. Her hair is cut short and waves around her face. “Busts are hideous, and you’re all far too beautiful for them.” Without any permission, she leans down and kisses Noctis’ forehead. “I’m glad to see you here. Your father will arrive?” 

“Mom will make sure of it.”

“And Cor?” asks Ravus, smirking.

“He tried to get out of it, but Mom threatened to set him up on a playdate with a classmate and he caved.” Noctis examines Ravus carefully. “You seem a lot more comfortable being young than Cor does…”

Ravus shrugs. “What’s not to like? I’m with my family. There are no wars, no deaths, no sacrifices. I’m taking advantage and enjoying my time, even if I sympathize with Cor over our choice of peers.” 

“Can’t say I had it any different,” admits Noctis. As soon as his memories began to return—even as fragmented as they were—he had trouble socializing with kids his chronological age. He longed for the friends he had lost. His other lifetimes were not dissimilar. He was lucky the last time, when he had Ignis by his side early on. They lived carefree and happy for a time, enjoying a mischievous youth together in the walls of the Citadel. Everything had been wonderful and innocent for that short window.

With even more friends accumulated, his life is almost perfect. He feels comfortable catching up with Sylva and Octavius while they wait for his family to arrive. Luna’s parents are happy and kind. A plate of cookies is brought out, and Noctis has four of them before he cuts himself off to keep his remaining appetite for dinner. 

The doorbell rings a couple of hours later, and Sylva is the one who stands to answer it. Noctis sits up on the edge of his seat. His gaze drifts to Ravus, whose eyes are unreadable. But his back is stiff. Luna puts a hand on his knee and squeezes.

“Forgiveness, Ravus.” 

“I know what Mother has said. I’ll do my best during this trying event.”

Sylva sweeps both Aulea and Regis into a hug before they finish walking through the door. Noctis can tell that his father is surprised by the gesture, but Regis graciously accepts. The new arrivals are herded into the dining room, and Sylva takes a second to wave the rest of them in.

“I guess I’d better check on our dinner,” says Octavius. He disappears into the kitchen while the rest of them join Sylva. 

“Noctis has grown into such a lovely young man,” says Sylva, taking the chair at the end of the table. Regis sits beside her with Aulea on his other side, and Ravus purposely chooses the seat on the opposite end. Noctis decides to sit next to him, with Luna to his left. 

“Cor, you look positively adorable,” says Ravus smugly. 

Cor, who sits across from Ravus and next to Aulea, frowns. 

“Didn’t we agree not to bring up ages?” whispers Noctis. He attempts to resist the smile twitching on his lips and fails horribly.

“He is cute,” says Aulea, ruffling Cor’s hair before kissing him on the top of the head. 

Everyone stares, waiting for a reaction from Cor.

“Pass the food,” says Cor after a long pause. That is all the motive any of them need to begin filling up their plates. 

Dinner is livelier than Noctis expected. The two sets of parents fall deep into conversation about their current career choices—Octavius is an art professor at one of the smaller colleges, and Sylva is a florist. The topics flourish if only because most of the people at the table have had past experience as leaders in navigating tricky discussions, but as time wears on, it becomes apparent to Noctis that no one is truly upset with one another. 

Not even Ravus seems to be clinging to his grudges as he had been when they first sat down to dine. Everyone enjoys the meal, and for the first time in a while, they have a chef they can compliment. Dessert is even better, and by then, everyone is completely relaxed. Cor even starts up a conversation with Ravus about whether or not he has continued fencing lessons in this lifetime. 

Noctis—for the first time in a while—gets the sense that everything is going to be all right. For a moment, even his situation with Ignis doesn’t seem so bad. All they need is a good meal and laughter, and the world is just a bit brighter for it.


	16. Chapter 16

Noctis’ workplace gets a lot of traffic after Gladiolus finds out he works at a bookstore. There is no complaining from Noctis’ boss, either, when Gladiolus and Prompto spend money each time they’re in—which makes up for the lack of purchases from Crowe and Luna. The girls have been lurking around the sofas, occasionally buying a pen or chocolate truffle from around the registers so they don’t look like a couple of loafers. Even if that’s exactly what they are.

“You should’ve tried working at the bookstore on the east side of town,” says Gladiolus, browsing some of the history books. He plucks one from the shelf and flips through the pages. “You would’ve found me years ago—that’s the one I go to all the time.”

“That’s too far from my house,” Noctis complains as he peels back the flaps of a box. It is shipment day, which means restocking the shelves during the quieter moments in the shop. “Not my fault you live and work so far away.” 

Gladiolus glares up at him from over the edge of the book. “Don’t you have a car?”

“My mom has a car.”

“There’s always the subway.”

Noctis doesn’t like taking the subway if he can help it; he only ever goes if someone else is with him. The crowds bother him. But he doesn’t mention this to Gladiolus.

“Too much money, Gladio!” Prompto slaps Gladiolus’ bicep lightly with a comic book before setting it on the countertop to buy later with the rest of his growing pile. “Noct’s family isn’t made of money.”

“Yeah, noticed that. Was a bit cramped at his house.”

“Well, excuse me,” grumbles Noctis. “My parents’ humble salaries can barely afford the mortgage on the house we have.” That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but he didn’t get the same perks as when he was a prince.

“I’m only teasing.”

“Yeah, well, if you buy more books, maybe my boss will give me a raise. Bet you can afford it.” If Noctis is honest, he doesn’t want to work at the bookstore anymore—not when they have found Gladiolus and Ignis already. But everyone else has developed a fondness for this place, and just because Noctis sells books doesn’t mean he has to read them. Like Prompto, he tends to buy graphic novels and nothing more.

“I buy lots of books,” mutters Gladiolus, setting another on top of his growing pile next to Prompto’s. “More than Luna and Crowe.”

Luna, who is playing with the wrapper of her 50 gil chocolate truffle, sends Gladiolus a curdling look. Beside her, Crowe unearths from her hoodie and joins in the glare-down. 

“Sure, college history professor,” says Crowe. “Let me dip into my wallet and—oh, right. It’s empty.”

“Oh, I think I have some more gil!” Luna digs into her knit purse and produces some change. “I can buy another truffle later, if Noct’s boss is too bothered by us hanging around.”

“Gladio buys enough for all of you,” says Noctis. He rearranges some of the shelves in front of him to accommodate the extra books.

“Ignis ever come in here?” asks Gladiolus, skimming through another book. He curls his nose and returns it, fingers bumping along the spines of each tome as he reads the titles. “I’m ready to meet him.”

“Yeah, we haven’t really talked to Iggy,” says Prompto. “When are we gonna all hang out? We could do a double date!”

“Oh, we want to come!” Luna sits up.

“With what money?” asks Crowe. “That’s four people to pay for.” She holds up four fingers in front of Luna, who leans down and kisses the tips of them. “I hate you,” she grumbles half-heartedly.

“We don’t have to go anywhere expensive,” says Luna. “There are plenty of cheap or even free events around Insomnia.”

“I think the more people who go, the more likely something important will slip,” says Noctis, trying to be vague in a public space. There aren’t many customers lingering around the shop—mostly on the upper floor where a walkway loops around more shelves of books. Since it is open to the rest of the store, voices carry well. Noctis has overheard many a conversation from people who come in to buy things and overshare when gossiping with their friends.

“That’s true,” says Crowe. “Do you plan on telling him anything?”

“Eventually,” admits Noctis, tearing the tape off another box. He gathers it in his fist, lets it roll around his palm. “I’m not sure how and when, but I think I’m gonna have to.”

“Damn right we have to,” says Gladiolus.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Crowe is the first to have held opposition to Noctis’ plan. All his other friends believe it is necessary, and Noctis doesn’t want a relationship built on lies and a lack of communication. 

“Why not?”

“I think you need to find a way to restore his memories.”

Noctis hadn’t considered that. Not once did he think there might be another way—which might be why he came so close to martyrdom in his previous life. Sometimes it’s good to be reminded you have options. Ignis is the one who used to do the reminding. Now they have Crowe.

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Time to find a way. We’ll help, when we can.”

Prompto slaps Noctis on the back. “Yeah, we’re here for you, buddy!”

What better place to start, Noctis thinks, than the library. The one downtown has the broadest selection of books, but Noctis will need to plan a trip when Ignis isn’t there. The last thing he needs to do is explain his unusual search to Ignis.

~*~

The downtown library holds five stories’ worth of books, and that doesn’t include the archives kept within its basement. The building is cool, too, with only artificial lighting to help preserve the books. An entire half of the main floor is dedicated to the children’s section, and the other half is computers and the checkout lobby. Noctis strolls up to the fourth floor to dig through the mythology books first. If he can’t find anything, he’ll start poking about the archives.

He is about to step onto the elevator when he feels a tap on his shoulder. Noctis turns and comes face to face with Ignis. 

“Ignis.” Noctis doesn’t have time to recover; his surprise is evident. “I thought you weren’t working today.”

“I’ve come in to cover a shift—a coworker fell sick.” Ignis tips his head. “Did you not want to see me?”

Noctis grins and leans in to peck his boyfriend on the lips. “I always want to see you,” he reassures, finger pressing against the topmost button of Ignis’ shirt. “But I don’t need the distraction while I’m studying.”

“If I help you, will that be a distraction?”

“The worst kind. I’d spend all my time staring at my sexy boyfriend and wondering how I landed such a perfect guy.”

Ignis laughs. “Can I help you find what you need before I leave you alone? I promise to avoid your workspace.” 

“Just looking up stuff on the Astrals and how I—” Shit, Noctis needs to remember more often that ‘King Noctis’ is dead and most people don’t know he reincarnated. “I, um. How I’m gonna ace my dad’s quiz when I get home. He’s really into helping me with my history homework.” This is the reason why he fought so much with his teachers growing up. Stupid, stupid tongue.

“I know exactly where to find them!” As soon as the elevator doors open, they board together. They are alone. Noctis takes the opportunity to hold Ignis’ hand while they travel up to the fourth floor. 

Ignis leads Noctis to an aisle with several books on the occult. They pass through until they reach the furthest end. 

“All of these?” Noctis gestures broadly at the shelves. 

“Indeed. Anything specific?”

“Nah, just doing a paper on the rebuilding of Insomnia and the dismantling of the monarchy, and I was curious to find out more about the Astrals and why people turned their backs on the gods.” Noctis is partially lying. A refresher course on what he might’ve said to piss off the Astrals might help reveal why they decided to punish him—if they are indeed responsible for Ignis’ lost memories—but Noctis mostly wants to focus on how to reverse what they’ve done. 

And as embarrassed as he is about it, Noctis might need to look at some of the books on the occult, too. Perhaps he should have brought Luna along…

“You mentioned your father has an interest?”

“Yeah, Dad loves this topic.” More like Regis’ fatherly love transcends lifetimes. Since he started getting his memories back, Regis began looking up everything about Noctis to find out more about the events between the fall of Insomnia and Noctis’ death.

“Oh, of course. I suppose that explains his job.”

Noctis smiles. “Yeah.”

“I keep imagining your family as wild, but they must be fairly normal people.” 

Noctis remembers the conversation he recently had with his father about introducing them to Ignis. Perhaps he has been painting them a bit too crazy when he explains them to Ignis. 

“Would you like to meet them and find out for yourself?” Noctis feels like he’s taking on a rare boss enemy with too few healing items at far too low a level. Death and destruction seem certain, but a chance for survival isn’t out of the question. He’ll have to sit down with his parents and have a chat about safe topics.

“I would love to meet your family.”

“Guess I’ll have to see when they’ll have you over.”

Ignis kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll let you browse. Text me if you’re having any trouble. I can’t let you monopolize all my time while other people need my help.”

“And you might lose your job if you spend your entire shift with your boyfriend,” says Noctis. 

“If only I could.” Ignis kisses him once more. As he makes his way back toward the elevator, he glances over his shoulder at Noctis and gets a little wave in return. His laughter floats back to Noctis, who waits until he is well out of sight before he sits down on the nearest stool and skims the shelves for the impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another dinner? 
> 
> Yeah, another dinner. Meet the Parents Part I!


	17. Chapter 17

Noctis paces near the front door. Since waking up, he has barely been able to eat. The anxiety churns through him, throwing his stomach around like a ship caught in a typhoon. All he wants to do is crawl under his covers and stay there until everything is normal again.

“Noctis, if you work up a sweat, you’re going to need another shower,” says Aulea, dragging him by the back of his shirt away from the window next to the door. “We don’t have time for that. Sit down.”

Aulea might have a point, but that doesn’t make Noctis feel any better. Too much could go wrong this evening. They’ll eat dinner and see a play—that isn’t a huge window for them to chat in, right?

Noctis and Ignis haven’t done more than make out with their shirts halfway unbuttoned, and now they’re about to take a serious step in introducing one of them to the other’s parents. Noctis isn’t sure if he likes going first, but that seems to be how things turned out. He’s beginning to think Ignis doesn’t intend to do the same when it is his turn; he skirts away from the subject with grace and tact.

“Are we going too fast?” asks Noctis, hoping his mother has enough recent experience with dating from her previous life to offer him advice. Then again, that was quite some time ago…

Aulea plops down on the sofa beside him, taking his hands in hers. “Of course not. He should’ve introduced himself to us on the first date.”

That gets him to laugh, which might’ve been her intention. “Mom, I’m being serious.”

“I am, too. Do you think I want you dating a perfect stranger for weeks without ever once introducing him? I thought I raised you better.” She elbows him gently before reaching up to brush his bangs out of his face. “It’ll be all right. I might be biased, but I think our family is fun.”

“I think you’re stretching the truth. Five minutes with you will guarantee he abandons any thoughts of marriage.”

“Noctis Caelum, I will get out the embarrassing childhood photos if you keep snarking me.”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Fine. Not that you can shame me, since I was pretty cute as a kid. If I have kids with Ignis, it’s going to be a fight on who the birth dad gets to be.”

“Definitely Ignis,” says Regis, stepping into the living room. Not far behind him, Cor fusses with his dress shirt, adjusting the collar as if he is an unhappy stray cat being forced to go domestic. “You didn’t inherit enough of my charming looks to have children.”

“I hear some traits can skip a generation,” says Cor.

“Ah, that changes everything. Noctis can be the birth father.” 

“Enough.” Noctis wishes he had not mentioned children at all. “Way too early to be thinking about that stuff.” He glances down at his watch. Six minutes until Ignis will arrive, and he always shows up slightly early. 

They wait in silence until the doorbell rings. Noctis feels every chime down to his gut and sinks further against the sofa. Aulea is the one who nudges him off the cushions and gives him a little shove in the direction of the door. A few seconds later, she stands up to fuss with her hair in the reflection of the glass in a family photo. When she notices Noctis watching her, she sighs.

“I’ll answer it if you won’t,” she says. “Better yet…” She turns to Regis.

Noctis needs no further prompting. Before Ignis can tap the door, Noctis swings it open. Ignis’ knuckles are posed in midair. The evening breeze is refreshing. It ruffles through Ignis’ bangs and rustles the papers that wrap the bouquet held in his careful hands.

“Come on in,” says Noctis, stepping aside.

Ignis bows to Regis and Aulea as soon as he is in the door. 

“I’m Ignis Scientia.” He steps forward and offers the flowers to Aulea. “These are for you.”

“Oh, how lovely. I’ll have to put them in water.” Aulea sniffs at a rose and smiles in a way too sweet for Ignis to know how many flowers have dehydrated in her care, how many unfortunate plants she has killed with too little or too much love. She is a better mother than a gardener. “I’m Aulea.”

“I’m Regis, and this is Cor.” Regis reaches around to his side and drags Cor out by one arm from his hiding spot. 

“Hi.” Cor nods and tugs at his collar again. Doing so only makes a bigger mess of it. Regis sighs and kneels beside him to fix it.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” says Ignis.

Aulea loops her arm around Ignis’. “The pleasure is all ours.” As she drags him toward the kitchen, Noctis scoots around his father and Cor to follow them. Nothing happens in the three seconds they are out of his sight. Aulea sets the bouquet on the window sill behind the sink, where it will be forgotten until its petals have all fallen into dusty piles and the stems are brittle twigs. 

“No one ever gives me flowers,” says Aulea in a voice as light as the rose petals of her bouquet. The thorns are there, too, as she sends her son a curdling glare. “Thank you, Ignis.”

“We stopped giving you plants because you killed them all,” says Noctis.

“Aren’t cut flowers already dead?”

“They can still live for a few more days if you take care of them.”

“Some can even propagate,” says Ignis. “Nothing in that bouquet can propagate without more work than it is worth, I assure you. They’re simply a gift to cheer you up when you see them. Don’t worry about it when they die.”

Aulea laughs. “Noct is right. I can’t keep anything alive. It’s still nice to have flowers.”

“I’ll come over and take care of them for you every day if you wish.”

Noctis tries to keep himself from shouting “please do” at the top of his lungs. Having Ignis over every day would be wonderful, if he visits at a time Noctis isn’t at work. But then again, it means plenty of opportunity for something dangerous to slip. Tonight is already a precarious play of pretending they all don’t know everything about Ignis—except Noctis, who must keep track of what he has been told.

The dance of lies.

Aulea doesn’t think it through as much as Noctis does. “Yes, please! I would love that. But let’s hurry to dinner—I don’t want to rush through eating just so we make it in time for the play.”

She herds them out of the kitchen and toward the front door, somehow magnetically drawing Regis and Cor into the crowd as she passes them in the living room. They sweep into both Ignis and Aulea’s cars. Off they go, with no way of telling whether the night will be a success or a disaster. 

~*~

Noctis drinks too much wine during dinner. One glass follows another—a casualty of not paying attention while he chatters on with his family and Ignis. The worst that happens in his negligence is that Cor manages to steal a few sips before Aulea catches him. A bunched-up napkin smacks against the former marshal’s head in warning.

“Your family is…lively.” Ignis doesn’t seem bothered, so Noctis tries not to be embarrassed. 

There is need for more wine when Aulea boldly asks about Ignis’ parents and childhood. She transitions smoothly from chatting about Cor’s adoption process and taking in a second son to the subject of Noctis’ upbringing, until she steers directly into a danger zone. 

“You seem like a much nicer young man than my children,” says Aulea. “Did you ever get up to any mischief as a child? I know Noctis did.” 

The awkwardness upends everyone but Aulea, who merely smiles charmingly over her plate of fettuccini. Cor reaches for Noctis’ wine again, but this time Noctis catches him and bats his hand away. That is _his_ glass of wine, which he upturns into his mouth and downs in record time.

Ignis recovers first. He smiles and says in a gentle voice, “I sometimes gave my parents trouble. Don’t all children? I think I worry them now.”

“Oh, all parents worry about their children. Are they as wonderful as you are?”

“They’re nice.”

“So a family like ours?”

Noctis snorts into his empty wine glass and eyes Aulea over the rim, only to be met with a raised eyebrow.

“Is there a problem, Noctis?” Aulea’s voice drips sweetness. 

“Yeah, you’re interrogating my boyfriend about his family the first time he meets you. Nice mothers don’t do that.”

Aulea pouts and turns to Ignis. “I was only curious. Oh well, let’s change the subject. What embarrassing things do you want to know about my son?” She scoops up her wine glass but doesn’t drink from it, waving it around with her hand instead. “Do you want to know all the names of his stuffed moogles? He also had a moogle nightlight named ‘Balloon’.”

“Isn’t that the nightlight currently in his room?” asks Cor.

“In his room?” Regis narrows his eyes on Noctis. “That’s supposed to be in Cor’s room. Did you steal it back?”

“I’m disowning all of you.” Noctis scowls at them. Why does his wine glass have to be empty? His head isn’t nearly fuzzy enough to distract from the complete embarrassment of the moment. 

A hand slips behind the back of his chair, and fingers rub his arm. Ignis is still a comfort, even after all these centuries.

“There’s nothing wrong with a moogle nightlight,” says Ignis. “When I was little, I was hooked on the Moogle Show and all its short cartoons. I still have the toys tucked in a box inside my closet.”

“No way, how could you not tell me this sooner?” Noctis is going to fall in love with Ignis again. How many times has this been? He’s losing count. Ignis is simply that wonderful. “You’ll show me next time I’m over, right?”

“Yes,” says Ignis, laughing. “I’ll have to unbury it. I suppose I should clean out my closet soon, anyway.”

“I’ll come over and help.” 

“He is surprisingly helpful at cleaning,” pipes up Aulea. “Anything but his own room. _That_ is always a disaster.”

Noctis is definitely not drunk enough for this dinner.

~*~ 

After the play, Noctis hurries Ignis down the sidewalk well ahead of his parents and Cor. They walk with arms looped, leaning into each other just enough to keep from losing balance. 

“I’m so sorry about my parents,” says Noctis. “Let’s get away from them before they have a chance to talk again.”

They were given a blissful two hours to enjoy the play in silence. Two hours in which no one on the Caelum side could embarrass anyone. Which means Aulea and Regis are definitely plotting a finale of some sort.

“Your parents are amusing, and your little brother intimidates me for some reason. I’d say they’re all perfectly delightful.”

“How about I go to your place for the rest of the night?” asks Noctis, intentionally steering the subject away from his family. “I don’t have work tomorrow. We could stay up late and—”

Ignis stops, releasing Noctis to turn and face him. “Noct…”

“Not ready for that step yet?” Noctis rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I guess that was a little forward…”

“It’s all right. It’s not that I object. I’m ready for that. I truly am—I have been for a while, actually, and restocked my bedside drawer weeks ago with anything we might need if we took that step. But I’m exhausted.” Ignis pulls his keys out of his pocket and dangles them in front of Noctis. “In fact, you’re welcome to drive me home and stay overnight if all we do is sleep. I would love that.”

Noctis grins before snatching the keys out of Ignis’ hands. “I love sleep.”

Ignis kisses his nose.

“Let me tell my parents I’m headed to your place.” Noctis glances behind him. His family is only a couple of yards away. He waves at them. “Hey, I’m going to Ignis’ for the night. See you tomorrow!”

“Be safe and use protection!” yells Aulea at their backs as they hurry away.

“Your mother is amazing,” says Ignis breathlessly as Noctis tugs him further down the sidewalk in the direction of the parking lot. 

“Glad you like her,” says Noctis, and he truly means it. He bites back the urge to ask when he’ll be able to meet Ignis’ family. All he wants for the rest of the evening is to go back to Ignis’ apartment and spoon until they’re both asleep. He isn’t about to invite any tension for what could be the perfect end to the evening. 

Besides, he can tell from one look at Ignis that his boyfriend could fall asleep right there on the sidewalk. It’s rare Ignis ever reaches that level of exhaustion. Had it worried him so much to meet Aulea and Regis? To have it turn out well… That must be a relief. 

“Let’s get you home,” says Noctis, and he wraps an arm around Ignis’ waist before guiding him back to his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more dinner party left... :') 
> 
> Until then, enjoy the fluff? Things will start to get a bit prickly in the next few chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is welcome, including concrit. C:


End file.
